Symphonic low noise I hear is far away
It's filling in the cold but fresh silence with warmth, hope and dreams
There's also a beating, a stomping of feet on fold up bleachers in a hollow gym
They're promising something but you have to give up the fresh air
Crowd in with the mob and give it up for the orchestra playing the song you've heard before
Sit and listen or run for the door, the space, the changing of seasons
Its only a choice, a temporary embarassment
Their eyes may follow but not their hearts...they're deaf and run their mouths anyway
Wait for the door to close and cover your ears
Where's the sound coming from?
... so beautifully with the silence, that one without the other would be lost
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