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You’re on your hands and your knees on the ground, Hoping somebody can hear your sounds. From the bottom of the canyon you shout your truth, but your voice never reaches the rim because my ears must be made of tin, so how could any information get in? I plug them tight until the black and the night become white again, you try to open them with knives.
I may not not know just how to say that we could both be wrong
ButI know we can sing a song, and you can carry the words along with me, and together our voice is stronger than a single sacred symphony.
You speak in color and you speak in tongues, I like to think our language isn’t different. You point your finger at the weeds to be pulled and the work to be done, but will it ever be enough? I’ve been trying to hear you say this and push aside my selfish self righteousness. But which is heavier, a pound of feathers or a pound of bricks? We’ve all got our burdens.
I may not know just how much yours weigh, but I know that we’re strong
And I know we can sing a song, and you can carry the words along with me, and together our voice is stronger than a single sacred symphony.
Are our words really so far apart?
Or do simply we want the same thing in our guarded heart of hearts, in our hearts?
I don’t quite know just how to say that we can both be right and we can both belong.