My mother never sang a lullaby to put my little sister and I to sleep,
She took every silence that sits in the room and plays a piece of music-so loud only my father could handle when she sings.

Then, we'd watch them threw each line from a song that never seems to end.
The music that we'd rather have our ears cut off than to listen.

In the morning we'd pretend like nothing ever happened.
It was the time when I feared the noise, and mostly everything that speaks.