There was a man, he came from a little island slightly off the Equator. That island was called Singapore. The man's name is unknown, because this man is many men, comprised of people over the decades.
This man...
He had a dream. He had a dream of buildings, cages and silent screams. Screams in buildings. It was going to be his musical box.
He just wanted to put everything together. He didn't know how. So he went overseas to do a bit of research on his musical box (they didn't have Internet at that time). He knew that most of the world didn't quite agree with him on what was a musical box, so he had to invent something for himself. He wanted some music, man.
He found a great many musical boxes, too. Way out there, over the five oceans and seven seas, there was a rock off the coast of San Fancisco, and it was called the Alcatraz, and melodies drifted out of the iron cages there everyday, 24/7. Then there was the Scotland Yard, and the area around there was awash with beautiful notes. And everytime there was a skirmish between two big places, the scarlet battlefields always had a live orchestra there, playing his favourite song.
But then he discovered that the best musical boxes were common all around the country. In dirty grey buildings, stuffed full with little nuisances. With the great conductors standing in front of each batch of these nincompoops. Making music out of them. He was entranced with the tune, so he followed some of them home. And found that they were still filling the world with their timeless song.
He knew what he wanted now. It was right there, in every country. So he came back to this little island, and he built his first musical box. It was a very good musical box, so he built more. And then everywhere he went, he could hear music.
They were called
schools, his musical boxes.
He grew old, and his ears were bad. He needed music of a richer quality. He wanted melodies that would last through the ages. So he created a form of
conducting that would cause all the
instruments to make the very nicest tunes. The loudest ones, and the most heartfelt ones, full of the emotion that he always looked out for when appreciating his music.
He grew older, and then he died.
But his music still lives on, even as we scream our loudest, our most hearfelt sounds, always full of the stress and anxiety gnawing at our insides.
His music lives on, even as we scream.
Only his descendants can hear our music, but they like it.
So it will probably continue forever, and in the meantime...
We scream.
