Page 64 of Imperfect Cadence

“Surely part of that is great marketing, though? Your fans are obsessed with digging for hidden clues in your songs. Is your refusal to be upfront about your inspirations purposeful to keep them coming back for more.”

“No. If you’d even bothered to listen to it, you’d know that this is me baring my soul as a form of personal therapy. I couldn’t give a *bleep* what anyone thinks of it. I write for myself, first and foremost. I love when my fans can find meaning in those lyrics and use it to help them through their own hard times. But make no mistake. If my fans all disappeared tomorrow, I wouldn’t change a thing about the way I write or how I discuss my music.”

“Well, I think we can all relate to your songs in one way or another. Thank you for your time, Colton Ray. Here’s your exclusive listen to the newest single from his album of the same name, "Imperfect Cadence”

Soft notes began to trickle from the speakers, instantly hypnotizing. Then the lyrics followed, and I felt as though I might swallow my tongue.

Once upon a time, in a fairy tale land,

A princess awaited a white knight’s hand.

He rode through the snow, his armor gleaming bright,

Rescuing from the alley of darkness with all his might.

But the story took a turn, we couldn’t foresee,

And now we’re strangers, just you and me.

The trust we had shattered like a glass on the ground,

But moving on from you, it's nowhere to be found.

Imperfect Cadence, a love untold,

A tale of passion, now bitter and cold.

In the echo of silence, a love left stranded,

Like a masterpiece abandoned,

An imperfect cadence.

We fought against dragons, faced demons within,

But couldn’t conquer the doubts, the fears, the sin.

Your armor tarnished, my crown starting to fray,

As you realized our love couldn’t find its way.

But we’re stuck in this moment, unable to move,

Trapped in a cycle we can’t seem to improve.

But even as we fall, I’m holding on tight,

To a lover that’s imperfect, but feels so right.

Imperfect Cadence, a love untold,

A tale of passion, now bitter and cold.

In the echo of silence, a love left stranded,

Like a masterpiece abandoned,

An imperfect cadence.

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