These Words

Sticks and stones ain't ever gonna break me. No, sticks and stones, They ain't ever gonna break me. But I've got words, words, words flowing outta my mouth. They're flying faster than screeching eagles. Frantically peaceful. Hurts my teeth. Pull to release ‘em. 'Cause they've got so much more meaning than my simple voice can project. These vowels stand tall. They raise their noses up a little higher, Start walking a little bit prouder. 'Cause words, well you see, they aren't just for chatting about weather. They were made for the translation of your heart. They are soul on paper. And don't you tell me that I'm wrong until your "soles" all gone. ‘Til you've walked from shore to shore. ‘Til you have preached to convicts. Or spoken to the terminal or until you have broken your only love's fragile heart. It's a mystery. A melancholy comradery. An underground telepathy. And these words may mean to you, not a thing. That ain't no matter. These words bring me to my feet. They force me to believe that one day I'll be free Of these shackles and one day we'll all see. One day you'll all see why these words mean everything.