He cannot hear
I just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear
What's up is down and what's far is near
The radio boils
The microwave sings
The telephone listens, while his ear rings
But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal
To his strange world of backwards turmoil
His eyes tear up
At the toasters dull ding
Oblivious though, to orchestral strings
Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup
An ode only heard as a course hiccup
Puts books to his ear
But hears no voice
Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce
The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer
He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear
He runs in circles
And sits in squares
Drowns in shallow waters and falls upstairs
Nothings left of romance when passion dulls
But crippled hopes and shattered hulls
He cannot hear
He just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal clear
What's up is down and what's far is near
Ending is a work in progress
