Singing

The song plays on the radio
As you drive along
Happy, bouncing melody
Nothing could be wrong
No traffic lights, or lack of flow
Can halt your mood, it's green for go
The words or meaning pass you by
It's the tune that makes you fly
In your step there's a definite spring
As you let the music sing

The ditty plays in the supermarket
As you stroll around
You're not yourself at all today
Echoes of strange thoughts abound
Just like the queue, you're moving slow
Absorbed in yourself, a private show
But the tune resonates inside
A connection in which you confide
In your mood there's a small upswing
As you let the music sing

The iPod picks a random track
Doesn't matter where you are
The words stop you cold, stone dead
As the solo's belted out by guitar
It's like it was written just for you
A very personal point of view
Memories brought up from below
Of something, or somebody that you used to know
Each word and line is jarring, stinging
Brings an end to all the singing