My heart pounds
at the beat of the drum
the weight of the stick
thrusting against the symbols
the vibrations hallowing out my insides
weakening the core, releasing the vibrato

The strings of the guitar
puppet my motion, igniting my being
physical but immobile to the sweet sound
casting the reflections of the shadows of my soul

I stand tall, mocking the vocal stick
Numb to the sounds that are screaming
and singing deep within my soul
The lyrics spit out without effort
though are silenced, and chained
And composed upon the spinning record