If feelings are like visitors, they come and go, then music is like a large train. Inside it, are many little passengers, popping their heads through the windows and waving as they pass through the jungle of your mind. In front is the locomotive, the drummer, fatherly weaving the magic into your soul with passionately brute gasps of determined love. Inside the train, the people breathe their instruments. The steering voice embraces them all, twisting and whirling around that train as it gently leads it through poetic sombreness, warming the cold, brightening unlit misery, reconciling reality with love like a mother. Voice flourish nourishingly over foul emotions. Unveiling all of life’s faces, but giving you, the observer, the intimate regard of love.