You are the music of my life:
Like freedom on a Highland loch,
Where grebes can dance their wildest dreams,
And mountains hang like summer clouds.
You are the music of my pasts:
Where molecules of memories merge,
And sadnesses and joys are joined,
And riotous the stories’ births.
You are the music of my world:
The self-absorbed and self-proclaimed,
The moments which meant all to me:
And all of which just had to be.
The strings of place, the pulse of time,
This world of music, world of mine.
Loch Ruthven, Highland, where we heard You Are The Music by King Creosote.