Genre Chord Decor

Pedals run from the bloom. Soil stems beauty, bleeding from the heart. We all live forever so polish your only feature. Always love from pollen to ashes. (acrylic/oil pastels)	Texas is country and country is now. Music is what connects us to the state. Though our minds are dead our horns live, bleeding music into our veins. Genres are the root among us.(oil/ real longhorn skull)	The Birds and bees kiss lilies finding a middle ground. All relationships have treble but compromising proves to hold everyone together from the bass of beauty.
		The night is young and the music is old like the moon that gives us light to see all but the notes. Music's notes hide the beauty of a song like a rose hiding it's thorns from the garden. Repeat. ( acrylic/oil pastels)
Is speech free? The consequences of our words can burn us down. But is anyone listening to you anyway when you were speaking into the mic? She holds the unread book of the right but the title edits her true belief. Clearance tags the priceless intent but the ratified year marks up to the real price. It's at its worst but someday the sun will rise again.
	Lyrics may look like a leafless fern trying to grow reaching pollen to the sky but underneath the acoustic side the roots run deep, anchoring the tone down like a fretboard onto body. Space is where we will stay when we find the song that moves us another way.	When music is absent, our minds cannot think. Without that melody, it will sicken our day. We stay away from our thoughts because in the end solitude is where we'll remain if music is not there to save our day.

The fiend begs for a fix. The only addiction we all share. Music. Music calms us down but fires us up shortly after. Music is our drug. Our remedy for life. Genres are the kinds of uppers and downers that we choose to consume ourselves. Please feed the beggar.