When I was small
I wrote a song.
It was as wild
As it was long.

I did not know
How to write words
And so I sang
With the morning birds.

Now I am grown,
I am depressed.
I write long things
Just to impress.

I do not sing,
I only sigh.
When I was small
I was alive.

It's ringing,
Ringing in my ear.
It doesn't stop,
It just keeps ringing.
Ringing, ringing ringing.
I can't,
It's doing the,
It,
Ringing,
And it won't stop.

for years
i’ve been eating
without tasting