I still suffocate on the voices I've been told are too loud
Like stones dancing in between my cords, they scratch and claw
Let the records show, my vocal element is raw and disfigured
Discombobulated as i figured i frighten people that linger for the second half of sentences embraced with fragrances of roaring passion.
And so i suffocate on voices i change and relocate
I hate that i hate a simple part of mine self.
I've given my words a new location far from the vocation of public speech
I'd rather keep peace than reach for my vocal shotgun.
But i must say
i miss they way i sounded when i recall a string of words I've sung...