AS I LAY BENEATH THIS BROKEN DEAD TREE,SHE REMINDS

ME THROUGH SONG. NOTHING PURE TO CELEBRATE BUT THESE

BROKEN PEDALS FILL MY HEAD LIKE DEAD SYMPHONY.

THEY PILE ON AND PILE ON

WITH NOTHING BUT THE BEAT OF HER HEART

IN MY HEAD.

I SHOULD BE FINE WITH THE SUN SO BRIGHT,

LOOKS SO PERFECT FROM BELOW, BUT IT’S COLD

AND I’M TOLD THAT I’M NO GOOD WITHOUT MY MUSE.

IT’S THE SOUND OF HER VOICE, THE SOUND OF HER VOICE THAT CLEARED MY HEAD, CLEARS MY HEAD…IT WAS SUCH SWEET NOISE.

I BURY MYSELF IN HOPES THAT WHAT’S LEFT SURVIVES

BUT NOTHING SURVIVES THESE GREAT DIVIDES

I SHOULD BE FINE WITH THE SUN SO BRIGHT,

IT LOOKS SO PERFECT FROM BELOW, BUT IT’S COLD AND

I’M TOLD THAT I’M NO GOOD WITHOUT MY MUSE.

IT’S THE SOUND OF HER VOICE, THE SOUND OF HER VOICE THAT CLEARED MY HEAD, CLEARS MY HEAD…IT WAS SUCH SWEET NOISE.

NOTHING MATTERS IF THERE IS NO GUIDED HUM…

NOTHING MATTERS IF THERE IS NO WHISPER…

AND GOD I TRY AND I TRY SO HARD TO HEAR THE ECHO OF SONG,

I HEARD ONCE

LONG AGO.

IT’S THE SOUND OF HER VOICE, THE SOUND OF HER VOICE THAT CLEARED MY HEAD, CLEARS MY HEAD…IT WAS SUCH SWEET NOISE.