I suppose I'm supposed to be more
Than a tired husk of soul.

I suppose I'm supposed to say more
To fill this empty hole.

But how do you write a silent letter?

How do you sing a tuneless tune?

The sky cracks open like a skull and
White hot lightning pops out like teeth

She's a dragon, and she's breathing fire and
Her smoke of clouds is stained by a teary wreath.

And I suppose she's supposed to be more
Than a moment's will-o'-wisp

And I suppose she's supposed to say more
Than cries, clean and crisp.

But how do you write a silent letter?

How do you sing a tuneless tune?

The worms aren't here to feed the birds,
They just don't want to drown.

And here, they crow, they've made their choice
Between a bullet and a tarnished crown

And I suppose they're supposed to be more
Than Christ's last meaningful meal,

And I suppose they're supposed to say more
Than a final prayer to heal.

But how do you write a silent letter?

How do you sing a tuneless tune?

How do you write a silent letter

When there's nothing left to croon?