Does it bother you? The stories untold, unheard of?
All these lives lived, and no one knows. Silent walkers.
This world is full, yet still filling. So many stories.
Yet we only know a few words. We are blind to the chapters.
Billions of books, and we just keep writing for blind eyes.
There's music unheard, melodies unplayed and tunes unsung.
What is a library for if not to be browsed? We are oblivious.
Does it bother anyone that we speak to a dead audience?
The glass is poured, filled and then drunk.
Empty lies the bottle upon the floor.
Every man his own brewer of his wine
Until at last his orchard dries.
His bottles will dry and crack,
And no one will know his taste.
His glass will shatter to deaf ears,
And his brew will go to waste.
verse 2
We plug into the world, but we read so little, hear so little.
So much music, so little time. Bookshelves untouched, drowned in dust.
Too much time spent on our 9 to 5's, and nothing left for the unheard composers.
We all have dreams, some broken, some dead and abandoned. So few achieved.
Like nightmares we walk, afraid and abandoned. Closed off and sheltered.
The only eyes that read us are our own, the mirrors our biggest fans.
Maybe it's time that we slow down and take time to read something new.
Time to ask a question, meaningless but full of potential.
The glass is poured, filled and then drunk.
Empty lies the bottle upon the floor.
Every man his own brewer of his wine
Until at last his orchard dries.
His bottles will dry and crack,
And no one will know his taste.
His glass will shatter to deaf ears,
And his brew will go to waste.
Verse: 3
Ask a stranger about their story, and maybe they'll read you a chapter.
Millions of songs and we confine ourselves to our favorite playlists.
Does it scare anyone else that the most important people to us
Came into our lives by chance? A stranger turned lover by chance?
The monster under our beds is fate, the most terrifying of all myths.
Sometimes kind, other times cruel. Possibly caring, maybe deceitful.
The one diety we cannot turn our backs to, everlasting control.
Unless we take time to read new lines, taste new flavors.
The glass is poured, filled and then drunk.
Empty lies the bottle upon the floor.
Every man his own brewer of his wine
Until at last his orchard dries.
His bottles will dry and crack,
And no one will know his taste.
His glass will shatter to deaf ears,
And his brew will go to waste.
Verse: 4
Fate is a wild card, unreadable and powerful.
One small change, one small decision can change the world.
Is anyone else afraid of the endless variables, the constant uncertanty?
This fear captivates me and yet I cannot tear my eyes away.
Outro
Put down your pens, and pick up a book.
Close your books and read something new.
Find a new glass to drink from.
Open your ears, your eyes, your heart and mind.