The Day The Music Died

In Promo, Sebastian Boswick by Sebastian Boswick

I have a song in my heart.

They say we all do.

In each of us, we have a song that is ours and ours alone.

And though not all of us can sing it…

We are fortunate to know what it sounds like.

We know what it sounds like when we sit down for a hot meal with our friends or loved ones, and chat about events in our lives and the interests that bind us.

We know what it sounds like when we kiss our wives and husbands good morning. When we kiss our offspring good night.

We know what it sounds like when we have fun, and make merry.

but the songs change…

You see…as the heart corrupts, so too does the song

And we start to hear our heart’s songs when we drink or smoke marijuana cigarettes.

We start to hear it when we neglect our duties out of laziness.

…Some of us have hearts so utterly corrupted, we can only hear songs when our fellow Arcadians die.

Our heart’s songs should not celebrate or foretell our deaths.

And yet, Muerte, it’s all your heart knows.

Your corrupted and besmirched, black heart.

I’m well aware that you think your music only tells the truth.

But the truth, Muerte, is your music is damnable and wrong.

The truth, Muerte, is the ACA will cease your heart’s melodies from reaching the ears of the good people of Arcadia.

The truth, Muerte, is that you’ve done half the work for me.

You’ve made the good people of Arcadia afraid to hear your songs, afraid to hear what the lyrics foretell.

And fear, Muerte, well…

Nothing brings about censorship more swiftly.

This whole time you thought that the ACA could never stand in the way of your melodies, when in reality it is the ACA your melodies could never stop.

This whole time you thought your music could bring a man like me to my end, when in reality it takes a man like me to bring an end to the music.

And that’s precisely what I’m going to do.

First, I will censor your lyrics. 🚫

Then, I will censor your heart. 🚫

Because the good people of Arcadia deserve to have a song in their hearts that is uncorrupted, good, and joyful.

Through censoring your lyrics, their heart cannot be corrupted by your mouth.

Through censoring your heart, our own cannot be corrupted by your melody.

No…

Soon, Arcadia will share one song in it’s collective heart.

And all the good people of Arcadia will be able to sing it.

It’s melody will inspire decorum, patriotism, and joy in the heart, such that the lyrics could not possibly be corrupted by a foul bard like you.

The song will be called, “The Day The Music Died.”

But our hearts will not sing of the day that we die.

It will sing of the day we truly began to live.

The day your music was censored.

Censorship isn’t my job, Muerte. It’s my life’s work.

And unlike your songs, my life’s work never stops.