Come on with me, let's take a stroll, and see how far this rock and roll will take us. Will we reach the end? Will we find what remains hidden? Will all the doors just open up, the way they did when we were young? Or will we find a battlefield. No song is new. They've all been sung. The market's flooded now, you know. There's really nowhere left to go. No avenue left unexplored. No striking verse. No unplayed chord. But still, I think there's something left, a place that never lost its charm. The truth is that it's simple, but the truth is never safe from harm. Its power lives inside its own indignant stubborn refusal to give in to what is "in the now", or compromise to win a few more "likes" or "shares" or "double taps", and now this rhyme is dated, but with all my timely references, there's nothing that's related to more closely than a personal touch; a detail of my own, maybe a past experience, or just a solemn, wistful tone. I can't explain the power truth can bring. I just have to try to bring it in consistently, and never let it die, and so the truth is that I want this thing to work the way I plan, but my computer screen stares back at me, as blankly as it can.

So now I've filled the page with words that echo from my mind, and leave them here upon the page for all of you to find.