This is the sound I make.
It's my word. It's my phrase.
It's the song I want to praise.
It's the wave I create.
It's my crown. It's my fate.
Gladly sworn to be a grave.
I'm bound to it like a slave...
At least 'til I have found that which I crave.
It's the only spell I have mastered.
The only tell that ever really mattered.
It's the hottest hell my soul has battled
and it fell when that part of me was battered.
So, even if you can't hear about how I feel,
I'm still here and I'm for real.
I'm neither your seer nor your meal.
But, when you're near, it's hard to resist the appeal.