Backstage

The city works fine. The lights work fine. You're the thing that doesn't fit.

Some people are a volcano. You already know how it ends. You stay anyway if you can.

A poem became a song. The meaning changed. Maybe that's the point.

Same feeling. Different language. A way of saying: this is for you.

Sometimes you search for something you read about in a book. And find something real instead.

Some music is made to disappear into the background. We make the other kind.