The lies were engraved in the stone,
the dirt of time had hidden it,
yet people had forbidden me to move.
There was nothing I could do,
and you said nothing
and oddly enough, that was something.

When they took their hammers and chisels
to write the story down
you let them writes the lies
and stood silently watching.
I was angry,
I was mad,
but now I’m glad
because silence is nothing
and nothing is something.

So looking at what’s left
I see you standing
doing nothing
so, are you trying to say something?


 
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