The Poet's Tongue lyrics

The poet said not to create In another language that Not my own But every single meaning Is always so hidden behind Rusted locks I can try to either open Holes or lift and throw The heaviest of rocks It won't break… Open to me alone Not even a movement. Not even a crack. For that i shout using A strange dry tongue, In a languid lash And no kiss coming from This mouth will deliver True meaning However, swallow saliva, sap, All sapience in no way revealing I try to breath through a gash. But, not even a movement. Not even a crack. Ah, a squeal is the sound You might hear in this throat contact While a phantom pain explodes intruder Into your soul, deep far Listen to our mother language. In confusing new words we do spar The same different words attack. In no way a movement…nor the slightest crack.