You’re tired my love. I feel the same. They said everybody knows where we’re going. Yeah we’re going down.

You told me it’s not the words you speak but what the silence will scream. And yet, you seem to only hear the words and ignore the spaces in between. I’ve fallen in the forest, with no one around to hear. I’m silently screaming out loud.

You won’t step up from the fall. You’re too close to call. Who’s next on the list? You, the Tiger can’t be trusted. You, the Hope can’t make up your mind. One hundred days? My friends in L.A. don’t even know. Hold me. Break me. Jacob you make me. Edward is sick and the blood doesn’t quench.

Do the chosen, the voted, the elected hear? The silent screams don’t reach their ears. It’s all the right friends in all the wrong places. So yeah, we’re going down. They’ve got all the right moves in all the right faces. So yeah, we’re going down.

Who will save us now? The people scream. Grab the percussion gun. Now even the rats will jump this ship.

The boy has the remote and there’s nothing you can do. He’s in the attic; he’s in the balloon. Give me something that can move me.

Can you feel all the love? It’s the movement. It’s waking up.

I don’t care if the critics don’t fall in line. Let’s give the people something that will light those ears. The silence is building, waiting to explode. It rises from the abyss. The black hole sucks downward no more. Beware to the powerful.

You don’t have to make a sound. They’ve got what you need. The silence is deafening, and soon, all they possess will be ours. The lovers that will hate you will rally to the end, they’ll don our crest and won’t stop until it turns red. The person in the window who’s been gone for years is right behind you. Where does he stand? He catches the lost notes and with them he breaks the chains. I don’t want to let you go. Skies of sin know just what we want, they know just who you are. I’m giving all my secrets away. But to you, my people, I will hold on.

It feels so good I might die.

This could really be a good life. Let the lack of sound carry you on its wings. We’ll ride off into the sunset together, off to the gates of the fortuned. They’ll end in the moat where the Gators will go for another victory. You’ll end in the audience of the long-awaited symphony.

We will rise. The silence will ride. The vocal cords snap into place. Hesitate no more. Wherever we roam, we’ll change the course. The sphere will keep spinning, yet unprepared for what is to be wrought. The sound will sweep, filling the mud huts and ruins.

We’re now salt in the wound. So yeah, we’re going down. We’re marching on till up is down and in the setting the sun will rise. We are a beautiful letdown. Painfully uncool. The church of the dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures and the fools. But one day they’ll know. You’re tired my love. I feel the same.