Language is an expression of tongues,
Powered by lips & lungs,
Yet speech has to breathe freely,
For its song to be sung,
Life started with fun in the Sun,
Moved by the most cla**ical sounds,
Of a twitch to the right,
That fuels the melodies underground,
But can oblivion ever be a member of an empty set?
Can a past apocalypse ever offer us time to reflect?
Language is our expression,
Our honesty is our thing,
The voice that shouts from the twisted mountain,
Will break the puppet strings.