I've heard you sing
You play it again and again
Day and night
On busy or lonely streets
I've heard you on the rhythm.
You strum the harp time and time again
With the same song
In the crowd of silence again
But your song has no rhythm.
Your voice is mortal.
I heard the music again. I
guess it's a picture of your emotions
But your song has no rhythm.
There is a sound, but it looks like fire.
Maybe your eyes are quiet.
Though the sound is a self-image