The swag of your music feels like a cabaret host walking the steamy street of Osaka's Dotonburi. But this one comes from Africa, east. He a has a hop in his step and is on the run from the tormentors, in look for fun and play in the fields beneath the sun.
Each strum of your guitar is a stray thought of the days back home -- and his past overseas dials on his phone.
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Each strum of your guitar is a stray thought of the days back home -- and his past overseas dials on his phone.
Your sound imagines stories.
Thanks for the musings.
Cola (the OBGMz)
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