Music
Climb the stairs,
Shut the door,
Throw the bolt,
And lower the bar. Lock out my friends,
Draw the shades and power up.
Form a line,
Kill the lights,
Conceal my eyes,
Disguise my body.
Volume up.
Way up.
Now comes the sound,
A surrounding sea,
A wall of noise to lay waste all before me.
Then, shouting from my house,
Spitting from my mouth,
Drooling from my lips,
This is how the Truth comes out.
It’s not pretty, is it?
I worship four virtues at this altar.
One - defiant - a father’s nightmare.
One - domestic - a mother’s dream.
One - searching - a prophet for the people.
One - left behind - lovingly remembered.
Love?
It’s not important.
Prophecy?
Forget about it.
Honesty?
I hope so!
This voice is mine,
But I can’t claim it.
Before I’m ready it takes me where I don’t know yet I want to go.
This voice is mine,
But it doesn’t sound like me.
Beyond my control it speaks for me what I feel but don’t yet know.
Look!
I feel!