it was coffee shop music for lack of better words it was drums pounding rhythms and a voice crying out mutilated songs that were sewn back together a mass of scar tissue glossy and smooth you could say glossy and smooth, i suppose but you'd be forgetting those drums reverberating from rainforests and that voice that sexy sultry voice drifting from jazzy coffee shops you could say sexy and sultry, i suppose but then you're hit by a power chord fusion sending an electric current through us all widening our eyes and powering our hips filling our souls with a persistent pulsing dance beat escalating as our feet can't stand still you could say persistent and pulsing, i suppose but just when you think it will explode with emotion, it loses energy and power stripping down to the bare soul leaving nothing but that voice whispering carefully chosen words that weave through your mind brushing your lips with smiles it may not have a name it may not have a genre a windowless airless box leaving no room to breathe but thats all the better, i say breathe, i say fill your lungs with air and exhale your nameless music