What of the words that have rolled off your tongue, tired and heavy in sound Can they still puncture a heart that is worn, waiting again to be found Telling the people what they want to hear does an injustice to speech If they all say you are gone without hope, they've put a limit to reach It's like a drill that is carving a hole, making it harder to hear Voices of those who are fully aware, able to speak in the clear Time between pauses will soon disappear, leaving your mind to the buzz But if you can focus the quiet will come, settle the head that once was