Because I'm never going to say it as often
as you want to hear it
Even though it's true
Because I'm surely going to feel it more often
than you can feel it
And it's clearly there
When in the perfect moments
The words are building up behind us
Until a stranger screams
"Cut! Places everyone! Light's not right
And remember the pause
Between 'I love' and 'you'
Start over and more light on the two
And where are the violins?"
And I want to show it
And not say it
And you're going to know it
Not believe it, not ask
Because you're constantly asking yourself
If a liar is saying the same right now
I don't trust these words
Not their worth and their weight
I'm also not going to be the hero of your story
A big story
A terrific poem
On 600 pages or three minutes
Where we claim everything
And then everyone bleeds out
Where are the violins?
And we can choose
A silent disappearance
Invent a language
And then overcome all this crap
Because I'm never going to say it as often
as you want to hear it