For every song,
There comes an end,
An end where which,
The song is over.
Upon the over,
Hovers one,
A single sound,
.
Every song,
Has it drums,
And its people,
Shooting high.
Yet even after,
Drums beat,
And people cheer,
And the banners fly.
Even after,
Muskets roar,
Windows break,
And echoes sound.
One remains,
Though not remains,
It never left,
Just overheard.
What is this song?
Still going,
It surpasses,
What exactly?
O'er yonder hills,
Life goes on,
The song goes on,
Bye death.
Over the rainbow,
Dreams soar,
Hurts washed away,
Bye pain.
Bye happiness,
Bye rage,
Bye rushes,
And bye and bye.
The tried symbol,
Of life goes on,
Is part of it,
Never-ending.
For the beating drum,
Will I call myself to arms?
For the rhythmic rhythm,
Will I dance the beat?
For my soul's sake,
Will I allow the overheard?
Not I,
For I will listen to the silent song.
