A song is playing with the words not heard,
Somehow the words get lost,
And as the tempo ebbs and flows,
Do our dreams and goals get tossed,
The words get lost inside our heads,
We look but do not see,
As we judge the person seen,
Yet maybe that’s not me.
Everything you think you see,
Is just a matter of perception,
What the wall’s strength might be,
Becomes your self deception,
Maybe what our eyes detect,
Is the image you are given,
Not the person who I might be,
Or an indication of how I’m livin’.
Life and loss have molded us,
Into the people that we are,
And everyone might pin their hopes,
On a different star,
People, places and even things,
Or that old familiar song,
Build the wall brick by brick,
Is it right or is it wrong.
If the scars grow and grow,
Are the sounds then soon drowned out,
The wall becomes so high and thick,
That with love we do without,
The walls become a prison cell,
Constructed by our minds,
And as we strain to hear love’s sound,
The walls silence is defined.