A book with a missing title That's how he thought of me it hurt to be an idol of a heart that never beat his demeanor friendly his hands warm but his eyes were so dark and his mind an unclaimed storm be he not just a trespasser be he not just a landscape he was not a flyer he was not a soarer but he spoke in rhythm that didn't fail the ear he spoke of songs that no one stood to hear and no love no hate no emotion but raw was his beat his heart that never would never call