Michelle, ma belle. The words sung from Paul's lips. A melodious hum that embraces the very heart and soul. It is like staring right into the sunset, with waves clashing as I listen. And as the gentle breeze wafts the scent of ocean right over the landscape, I am at ease. The Fandango rose colour of the sky mingles in with the lavender twilight and dusky Azure.
Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble. The phrase that resembles a D half-diminished 7th chord. Melting: a word that thoroughly illustrates both chord and French. Like snow dissolving by the fire during Christmas evening. When these words go together, I dream of one thing; which is nothing. It may seem to myself that paradoxes can turn words picturesque.
Voices blend, and it is rather velvet. It is music caressing my being with its tender tones. This boy wouldn't mind the pain, would always feel the same. The guitars' strumming, and drums' soft beating blend into one soothing piece. Somehow, I taste the music like I savour the fruity, yet nutty flavour of a Parmigiano, mixed in with toasted pine nuts and fresh spinach–a perfect match.
