Between Silence and Sound

In absentia: without sound

Attribute wisdom to a still tongue

Breathe in stale air to heal all wounds

We see the end. We see the end

See the same lines and where they divide

Feeds on itself, the weakness collides

Too late for though when it’s ignored

We see the end before it begins

Blood of ignorance continues to reign

It’s automatic. The process the gain

On silent hands with silent demands

We see the end. We see the end

Procrastination is a fledgling friend

Imperfection as a guise

Automation has failed again

We see the end.