History recites me poetry by the moonlight
As I light a dozen candles in the wind
And as I hear the words repeated, I start to write
To the sounds of waves and quiet violins
As History has spilled his heart through ancient lines
I take the pieces that connect with me, as mine
And when recited in a slightly different sound
It becomes mine, as the old letters hit the ground
One by one the letters spill out in a new alphabet
Creating words in ways that history has never met
And as I sing my song so loudly, I rip a hole in outer space
While the noise is quickly echoing from the black holes on my face
Tearing open all the skies as my brand new words now ring
Turning History into a washed up hack
I am approached by the past years as I bellow out and sing
As History begs for all of his attention back
