"So, are you gonna play us something, or what?"
You find yourself in front of a roaring campfire at night. In the dim lighting, you can make out the faces of several people, talking amongst themselves and laughing. One of them sits quietly in the corner, picking idly at her archtop guitar.
"Well, okay," she mutters quietly. "I don’t know if it’s any good, though."
And with that, she begins to play. A simple, mellow, yet haunting riff on a D major seventh chord. Gradually, everyone else turns quiet, and the girl begins to sing in a wistful, earthy voice.
Nothing to say,
Nothing to say.
Walk in the park,
Lost in the dark,
Oh, how contrived.
You stare at me,
Clandestinely.
You come my way,
I turn away.
Nothing to say,
Nothing to say.
