I’m tied up by my tongue,
Lassoed and cruelly led,
These handcuffs on my wrists,
Make me a silent, smiling shell,

And the greyer I become the darker it gets,
Not born with a mind that usually forgets,
Paralysed by these invisible threads,
That haven’t yet connected in my head,

Oh to speak, to speak well to yell,
With joy and with frustration, with imagination,
Oh to cut to the core of the delicate issues I see here,
To show that I have sight, oh to bring life.

My brain’s a brilliant machine,
as much horse power as I need,
But all that it’s pushing out,
Is a disjointed bunch of sounds,