Raging tides crash on your shore.
Silence haunts the once sonorous street.
A heart that yearns for a melodious chord
and a voice awaiting its master's speech.
Well deserved and well endured.
These years and hours have left us cured.
Of a vice that only music invokes.
Better days shall come, silence assured.
For if I speak, I shall rage the men.
the men that hold the balance of fate
Anarchy as it is, what shall happen when
I embrace my pain and let cries escape ?
Lets fight a battle on the silent plains
the victor chooses the fate of sound
Will silence forever continue to thrive ?
or victory be loudly cheered around ?
To battle, I shall bring my song.
Sing to you what I had wrote.
You may bring your sharpened blade,
and swing it through my dulcet note.
From the dead silence that cleared
The sounds of victory had appeared,
reveled and graced the listening ears,
would abide therein for the coming years.
Had the ill not been spoken.
Had we let ourselves resist.
The world would've been quieter now,
not knowing ever that I exist.