The pride in the print

There is a voice
That hides behind my words
That swing from my breath
To call on my will, or ring in my end

And i know what you’re thinking
But you can take my word
This is not a drill, this is the real deal
This is for real
Can you count the debt my limbs owe
Or the love that they have yet to sew
Through the sings on terracotta tiles
On the floor before my open door

Oh, if heart and hand change directions
And line up on separate fronts
Just to design an illusion
To sew into my arm

And i know all that i have left here are my wits and my will
And i could paint your ears in white noise
If my heart would just hold still

What do you take me for?

My will is but a burden that i wish that i could trade
But now is not the time to wish for washed hands

And i’ve found a friend beneath my skin,
And fell in love beneath the pen

Prove your words, find the meaning behind your concern
Prove your worth, solve the debt that you owe to this earth
But in debt, i know i can earn
All this love (behind my tongue)
And my step and balance have kept in the dance with this all

So this is my voice the shame in the pavement
And the pride in the print
So this is my voice, the shame in the frame
And the pride in the print.