The Pride In The Print

There is a voice

That hides behind my words

That swing from my breath

To call on my will, or ring in my end

And i know what you’re thinking

But you can take my word

This is not a drill, this is the real deal

This is for real

Can you count the debt my limbs owe

Or the love that they have yet to sew

Through the sings on terracotta tiles

On the floor before my open door

Oh, if heart and hand change directions

And line up on separate fronts

Just to design an illusion

To sew into my arm

And i know all that i have left here are my wits and my will

And i could paint your ears in white noise

If my heart would just hold still

What do you take me for?

My will is but a burden that i wish that i could trade

But now is not the time to wish for washed hands

And i’ve found a friend beneath my skin,

And fell in love beneath the pen

Prove your words, find the meaning behind your concern

Prove your worth, solve the debt that you owe to this earth

But in debt, i know i can earn

All this love (behind my tongue)

And my step and balance have kept in the dance with this all

So this is my voice the shame in the pavement

And the pride in the print

So this is my voice, the shame in the frame

And the pride in the print.