For 'the' pathless carousels,
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All 'her' lovely companions are faded and gone,
'Her' words among mankind have no lips, nor tongue,
O unawakened earth,
Hear the trumpet of prophecy,
O wind,
The shepherd sings and dances alone,
Inside 'her' delight of blooming,
'He' belongs.

This is not a rehearsal 'my' love,
This, Is the real thing 'he said',
After sitting in silence for hours, I said 'let's talk', let's hear',
- Oh, no dear, please join me for a cup of tea instead - '
It was a man who was enjoying 'his' silence, simply a man who couldn't pretend.

A storyteller within its conscious cages reads its books so loud and clear while shredding silence between their pages.

Only once 'I' ever understood me,
When I didn't understand me.

Piece by piece they kept breaking your body,
It was a way to make themselves feel,
Exercising love out of habit was their favourite hobby,
Out of which you were left with nothing to heal.

A conscious 'market' has opened,
Is wealthy enough for 'you' to purchase a Brain,
When no Truth Is a price for A heart to beat healthy,
It gives Itself 'the' free will within A thought of reclaim.