Passion is best expressed when it's restrained.
An odd theory, yet it can be explained.
Music is bound to rhythm, tied, refrained,
And the true beauty comes when notes are strained.
We think it's beautiful because it's pained.
Because it's fighting, yet still remains chained.
Something deep inside rises when contained.
We all have a desire that's ingrained,
to fight against that which is ordained.
To never stop until freedom is gained.
And when a note finally breaks through the wall,
when a singer gives the finale his all,
when the broken hero stands tall,
when the bitter warrior answer the call,
and when the sacrificial friend takes the fall,
when the beaten man begins to crawl,
something inside us is enthralled.
