In Musicia

Lost in time the songs of my grandfather
pioneers of melody, soul and art
imbued in him the phantom and master
his gentleness hid a sore hardened heart
who stays late at night to make artful hymns
echo's of sound contaminates the place
the creatures go dancing; Cherubs and Imps
melancholy triumphs in sinful grace
armed only with bony slender fingers
six tin strings push themselves against the flesh
until the blood was drawn and pain lingers
Alas! the masterpiece is on the sketch
superficial is the world we live in
Artists live in a world we've never seen

-geekerz