The Mute
Well, as a child I mostly spoke inside my headI had conversations with the clouds, the dogs, the deadAnd they thought me broken, that my tongue was coated leadBut I just couldn't make my words make sense to themIf you only listen with your ears...I can't get in
And I spent my evenings pullin' stars out of the skyAnd I'd arrange them on the lawn where I would lieAnd in the wind I'd taste the dreams of distant livesAnd I would dress myself up in them through the nightWhile my folks would sleep in separate beds...And wonder why
And through them days I was a ghost atop my chairMy dad considered me a cross he had to bearAnd in my head I'd sing apologies and stareAs my mom would hang the clothes across the lineAnd she would try to keep the empty...From her eyes
So, then one afternoon I dressed myself aloneI packed my pillowcase with everything I ownedAnd in my head I said "goodbye," then I was goneAnd I set out on the heels of the unknownSo my folks could have a new life of their ownSo that maybe I could find someoneWho could hear the only words that I'd known