When songs repeat the words you sang to me
I hear the words like pleasant little sounds
They all remind me how we used to be
And how it feels when memory rebounds
It feels like beating silver sticks on drums
Like blood that beats a rhythm in my heart
Such metronomic memory succumbs
To simple sounding words while we’re apart
The volta turns the words to little darts
That pierce the drum where rhythmic sounds belong
Like sticks or stones that break unguarded hearts
I left my heart unguarded to your song
The ebb and flow of words are songs you sing
And waves are just the memories they bring.