History repeats itself inside my head,
Like an echo in a canyon,
Long after the initial shout
Losing at last that which
The shout was about
And so we read into
What we hear,
Imagining what it is
We felt when we let
the fell words fall,
the fell words fall,
And translate that which
We thought we said
Into what we need said
Feeling from it
What we need to feel
Not exactly what
We felt at the start
Thinking the whole time
How nothing has changed
When everything always does
And when we shout again
Our new shout falls
Onto ears we know might
Never hear what it is
We actually said.
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