There's a voice in my head,
That never leaves my throat,
For it is not a truth to be told,
Or a statement to behold.
For the words are in my head,
And I decline to repeat my basic lines to friends who won't be friends.
For they are just sounds,
They'll drift away- not even wanting to be found.
For your brain says what it does not mean,
For I can't say what I don't mean- so let's not make a scene.
For I'm stuck right between,
A delicate being and machine,
