I can still remember that day, all those years ago, the day that music died. The day that everyone lost the rhythms and the lyrics. Lost the notes and the tunes. Everyone lost any memories of what music was, now it's only a word briefly mentioned in schools, pondered over by the children, but never fully understood. Mine was the last generation to think in song lyrics, to hum to themselves as they walked down the road.
I can still recall the barest hint of a whisper of a song sometimes. A half remembered memory of something sung to me when I was still just a child. I sit there and concentrate on that scrap with all of my might, convinced that if I just worked hard enough, I could get the music back, could get back what had meant so much to me all those years ago.
But it never seems to work, it always manages to slip through my fingers just as I think I've got it again. That never seems to deter me from trying each time from trying. I will always try for the music, though, most times it feels like I am the only one who still tries. Everyone else seems more than content to let it die off.
Then I remember all of the ones like me who still cling to the music after all these years. We meet every so often, to discuss the music and to try and remember the music all over again. Who knows, maybe we will rediscover it one of these days, hopefully I will be alive to see that day. The day that the music is revived.