A poem about Abstraction

[Truerenigma]

and back from there when down i came
to land upon the heavy snow
in hills of sorrow, blame and shame
those mountains were so beautiful

I heard that song, the drunk man's song
his flute was so far out of tune
that when i heard it did long
for something that would make me swoon

I hate those things that make that sound
that scratching, grating, lacking groove
and every time i come around
i try to make them bust a move

Please give me back that flute, Ill try
to play a song that makes us cry