The sun pours its music onto the orchestra below,
Creating the song of life.
The snow of the mountain tops melts into rhythm,
Creating streams of conciseness.
They flow into the minds of the innocent beings,
Unaware of their own existence.
Each sound on the chain of music ties the universe together,
And sheds its rust into the sour portions of life.
The tears of the world run into melody,
And drains into the lake of sounds.
The lake provides songs,
Some run into the actions of every living thing.
Others will leak into rivers,
The Rivers of Song.
The sun will rise, the moon will fall,
The beings wake, the monsters brawl.
The seas will calm from their raging fights,
The trees will settle from the windy nights.
All around the town will stir,
All around you can find her.
She lives within the paintings,
She dwells in the reflection of life,
She listens to our conversations,
She revels in our horrid strife.
The sun will fall, the moon will rise,
The beings sleep, the monster dies.