You say I don't comunicate
That I'm just downright mute
That I don't understand you
And there ends your persuit
What would I choose to say to you
When you don't give a damn
Sure, I may not say much
But that's the way I am
I scream with the best of 'em
No way in hell I'm mute
I just confide in guitar strings
And whisper to my flute
I write my pain in my diary
In eighth-notes and in chords
And somewhere in the melody
I listen to your words
Replayed again as echoes
Of the music in my mind
Lost again to memory
And memory's unkind
I'll write for you this symphony
And lay things on the line
I love you, but without you
I'll still be just fine
So say again you'd die for me
And string my heart along
And go and shatter it again
To prove that I am wrong
That songs are just for listening
And music has no voice
That symphonies can't speak for me
And love is based on choice
Go ahead, be cynical
I'll smile in return
And not say a word to you
Because you never learn
You used to lay there, listening
Inside the practice room
I saw the music speak to you
And slowly, I'd resume
Practicing my violin
And words just held us back
When did silence slip past us
And seep down through the cracks
Because music's dead to you
That's by far the worst part
Because if you can't hear it
Then you can't hold my heart