The Silence of My World

Scribbles

(Here's a special; a song. Working on composing the music. For now though, you may sing it in any tune.)

The drawings on the wall
They tell us the past
When everything's a messed up system.
You know how they got up
And how they came to last?
They're history to those who've seen them.

But can you believe it?
These scribbles on my palm
They tell a different story that will disappear by dawn.

Still, can't you just see it?
The ink that we put on
It tells a hidden history long gone.

Stripes between my fingers,
A flower on my thumb,
Discard the pair of scissors, let me show you how it's done.

The thought of shedding blood,
Is not exactly calm,
So grab a pen and come on here to scribble on my—
Palm.

Who needs a cavern wall?
We use our own skin,
As canvas for our masterpieces.
The sharp tips of our pens,
These patterns on my hand,
Down to the thinnest of our creases.

But can't you just see it?
The ink that we put on
It tells a hidden history long gone.

Stripes between my fingers,
A flower on my thumb,
Discard the pair of scissors, let me show you how it's done.

The thought of shedding blood,
Is not exactly calm,
So grab a pen and go ahead, just scribble on my—
Palm.

Let the colours splash across the back of my hands,
Doodle random things that no one understands,
Yeah we'll make the memories worth remembering,
So just grab a pen and commence the scribbling!

Stripes between my fingers,
A flower on my thumb,
Discard the pair of scissors, let me show you how it's done.

The thought of shedding blood,
Is not exactly calm,
So grab a pen and come on here to scribble on my—
Palm.

(Lightning, hearts, bows and arrows.)

Just scribble on my—

(Trees, darts, streets all narrow.)

Draw on my, doodle on my, paint on my—

(Cars, cats, a lonely swan.)

You can scribble on my—
Palm.