• As I sit and think about what to say
    My hands ready to speak out on behalf of my mind
    I settle down on the chair
    And try to let the words flow
    A chain reaction of thought
    Still locked up inside my head.

    And as I sat wondering just what was on my mind
    Adjusting myself on the hard wooden chair
    I realized music was taking over my head
    Crushing out all and anything I might have wanted to say
    Panic starts to rise into my brain and flow
    This would be easy is what I originally thought.

    I rise with crescendos that reach up and seep into my head
    I crash with the soft musical flow
    The waves of composition eradicate any thought
    I still cannot find comfort on the hard wooden chair
    But still I would like to have something to say
    Even if obliterated is the new adjective to describe my mind.

    As I sat on my hard wooden chair
    I began to wonder once more if there was anything left of my mind
    And if there was anything I wanted to say
    If there was anything left to pick out of my head
    I hoped there was something left of thought
    So that it might be squeezed out to flow.

    Even though I figured some logic might want to have a say
    As to what I had done to my mind
    Maybe I just needed to cool my head
    But still what eluded me was a single thought
    So I settled back into my hard wooden chair.

    I shut off the music so I could hear a little thought
    Weakly buzzing around in the inside of my head
    And when I did, a nagging bit of sense came out to flow
    And I couldn’t think of what to say
    Because I just didn’t have a mind.

    And when again I dug through my head and into my mind
    And settled into my hard wooden chair and let it flow
    I found that there was no thought and that I had nothing to say.