Trombone faces, up and down,
the smile we paint, a lurid frown,
dance to tunes we cannot hear,
suffer in silence, courting fear,

Too much said in the darkness zone,
to the voids of chaos we are thrown,
with skittish punches we must roll,
the space between the juddered soul,

tried too hard to swim this sea,
to the moonlit shores that set us free,
always others sharpening their axe,
to cut us down as scythes through flax.

yet sentinels of hope we must remain,
whilst dancing to this sad refrain,
through the darkest words that spew,
look now to arms that hold us true.