Lyrics

We stretched our skins over the rims; Oh, how we beat ourselves to death The sound decays, spread too thin to resonate If we don't fold the wrinkles show Each trepid movement, an intrusion onto sacred soil Now vacant from a welcome overstayed Our refuge fades away Burned out in verse Does it still carry worth? How long can it last when each note hurts? These hands still play but Who knew that would shake this way? Will these tired strings still sing if we asked? And what would they say? Would they convey fears of echoes in distant halls Where "forever" and "together" Have a meaning all their own?