The Mute

Well, as a child, I mostly spoke inside my head

I had conversations with the clouds, the dogs, the dead

And they thought my broken, that my tongue was coated lead

But I just couldn't make my words make sense to them

If you only listen with your ears

I can't get in

And I spent my evenings pullin' stars out of the sky

And I'd arrange them on the lawn where I would lie

And in the wind I'd taste the dreams of distant lives

And I would dress myself up in them through the night

While my folks would sleep in separate beds, and wonder why

And through them days I was a ghost atop my chair

My dad considered me a cross he had to bear

And in my head I'd sing apologies and stare

As my mom would hang the clothes across the line

And she would try to keep the empty from her eyes

So, then one afternoon I dressed myself alone

I packed my pillowcase with everything I owned

And in my head I said "goodbye," then I was gone

And I set out on the heels of the unknown

So my folks could have a new life of their own

So that maybe I could find someone

Who could hear the only words that I'd known