In the silent and sad mountains, music speaks without the lyrics. Words escape and rise in clouds, forming vapor, pain and passion. Music, on the other hand, is harmless, floating low above the ground, spreading long and foggy fingers, through the grass and morning flowers. In this dark and lonely winter, snow begins to lightly tumble. There I sit without breathing, watching time pass in the moonlight.
ALL ENTRIES ARE LISTED IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER BY ARTIST
