Every moment a measure. 4/4 common time. Streetcars, subways, their snapping of tracks Repeating staccatos fill tunnels, and Wind rushes through. The shuffle turned Rumble of a 1000 footsteps. The crowd’s excitement like soft taps of a high hat Then gliding ivory guiding the third, the fifth, the seventh Person in chord’s progression. And like people, the sweet melody of music Is something you don’t need to know to love.