Roll roll roll thrill my soul all right with the mellow grind of a semi-acoustic, the clatter of a ring against the wood smacked in support of the strum. Would you know just what to do? The simple repetition of a basic blues song whining forcefully of the wrongs delivered night after agonizing night, taking offense at her unkind words or his kind words to her. It’s late September and I really should be back at school, leaving me behind another piano, another set of drums. I couldn’t leave you if I tried.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs