sorenbarrett

My kind of music

Raw bleeding, slashed, ripped from the soul
Gospel wail howling primal travail
Blue whispers blowing through grass 
Sonorous taste of strings
Gravel voice, shredding rock, digging up buried emotions scaling major peaks
A musical knife clefs disembowels visceral memories 
Unfolding innards falling, in new waves raising hair, ethereal, haunting 
Combed with folk ballads buried in jazzy tangles in a hurricane of sound
Bound in dark minor chords with a fist full of keys 
Uncontrolled shivers rap overtaking, breathless breaking and shaking
Resurrected primitive lost country throbbing beats, grungy classical melodies 
Poetic nirvana pops in savage orgasmic note slides and runs
No shiny mechanical chains staining these notes
Rare, never overcooked
Still alive
Drums ghostly heartbeats