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