he's the boom in your chest that you feel when that song's bass drum is really loud. he's cymbals crashing like thunder. he's tall buildings downtown that melt into the skyline. making no sense at all, ever, and loving it. he's music. always and forever, he's music. everything about music. that boy had music in his head all the time and after he dies, ill be able to hear drums and heavy guitar riffs seeping out from the fresh, tear soaked earth. innocence and filth. august blue skies and the way april wind sounds. never ending conversations underground, people shouting from above to silence us. he's constance. he's consistsce. he's persistence.
