From the recording The Book of Strongman


The Spoken Word

The spoken word is for the birds
Divide in half and then by thirds
The less you say the more you think
Some food for thought, too dense to drink
When all is said and nothing’s done
And speech rots ‘neath the pepper sun
No words are uttered, nothing’s said
The voices slayed and left for dead
Embrace the silence that you hear
It’s all that needs to fill your ear
The conversations bite the dust
Dispose of them please and you must
The din is dead, the bombast gone
The quiet world will sleep at dawn
The babel’s mute, the cynic quipped
Forget the stage, it’s in the script
The secret code is on the page
The quiet factions now engage
A crime waits in your open lips
The tongues are bitten, no one slips
Descent must now be scribbled down
Interpreted without a sound
But as your expiration nears
It’s time to toss away your fears
So fill your lungs and never mourn
The spoken word has been reborn