Beyond What The Ear Can Feel
I have no song
Every song that might have been mine
Is yours
From the trumpet beats
To the mournful chords
And the raging drums
They are all yours
Every song, every verse,
Every lament we rehearse
To an audience we can only curse
They are yours
But I will find mine
My songs are the quiet ones
The tired ones
With voices you have to strain
To hear
With quiet meaning you never
Listen to
I am without a title
Without an artist
No album embalms my heart
I am the whisper of the breeze
Through skeleton white trees
I am the crash of the fallen
The shatter of the broken
I have no melody to share
My grievances, my demons
Are mine alone to bare
I am the permafrost behind
A far off stare
And I would ask you to beware
Because I am beyond
What is heard
I am
Behind what is felt
I am
That woeful silent
I am
A tone-deaf thing
A pitchless scream
Beyond what the ear
Can feel
I am, I am
I am