Edge Of Seventeen (iPhone)

Marco turned up the volume. He didn't ask what was wrong. He just drove faster.

The chorus hit. The dove. The wind. The strand. Edge Of Seventeen

She turned to him. The green light of the dashboard lit up the side of his face. He was beautiful in the way that things you are about to lose are beautiful. Marco turned up the volume

"I'm seventeen," she replied. It was the only explanation she ever gave. The chorus hit

Since you asked to I will provide a complete creative package: a narrative poem capturing the song's spirit, a breakdown of its musical DNA for a musician, and a short scene of fiction inspired by its title and mood. 1. The Narrative Poem: The White-Winged Dove The guitar is a single engine, a one-note scream. A wailing, picked string that refuses to resolve. It is the sound of a thought you can’t finish, the sound of a car idling in the rain after you’ve said the thing you can’t take back.