An Army Among The Mute

Rise Up! Rise Up! O poets! All poets! With pen in hand, so mighty your sword That you can slice though the indifference That holds captive the quiet Locked in a belief that theirs a voice none hear We, with strings of sentences Can tell the tales of the brokenhearted The lost and lonely The which way is out wanderers Rise Up! Rise Up! O poets! All poets! Alone is a dangerous place to reside Let screamingly, sail, the secrets of your soul The lid begs to be loosened Feelings to fly Someone is listening Someone is waiting Someone believes they remain departed From the entirety of everything eles Rise Up! Rise Up! O poets! All poets! For we are the keepers of the heart's fire