May just be prattling
But I’m still making a sound
Like the tree in the forest
That no one hears falling
I got the intensity
But you’re measuring pitch
These words speak volumes
Keep up with my speed
Embrace the melody
Of wounded lips
May just be a façade
Never wanted to be language
The talk of angels
Or something else heavenly
Could be Pentecost
Could be a tongue roaming free
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
May just be prattling
But I’m still making a sound
Like the tree in the forest
That no one hears falling
I got the intensity
But you’re measuring pitch
These words speak volumes
Keep up with my speed
Embrace the melody
Of wounded lips
May just be a façade
Never wanted to be language
The talk of angels
Or something else heavenly
Could be Pentecost
Could be a tongue roaming free
