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We bite off our tongues |
|
while chewing the fat; |
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though the fire in our lungs is celestial |
|
our delivery falls flat. |
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Would a time come to be silent? |
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Oh, we never spoke of that. |
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We talked out of turn |
|
in the school of hard knocks; |
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although willing to learn from experience |
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it still comes as a shock |
|
when the time comes to be silent... |
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one by one the jaws all drop. |
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The voice is still clear in my head; |
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it's the last word in monologue... |
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close-up, interior, night. |
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Mmm... |
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The voices alive in my head |
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are all tongue-tied to silence now. |
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It's the darkest of moods, |
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it's the cruellest of jokes |
|
that this facility I used, once so fluent, |
|
is cut out at a stroke. |
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And the time came to be silent |
|
as the core connection broke... |
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absurd ineloquence, |
|
my own words on which I choke. |
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Swallowing deep on the thread, |
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so much I'm losing now, |
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so many things left unsaid |
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and the voice I've been using is |
|
gone ahead. |
