can you hear it the soft sound of aging the watch tower growing watch less the cautious losing conscience in that summer s eve in the dryness of the mountain beams of sunshine whispered at my back and became my captain so i became a slave to the one that uplifts and left me cartwheeling do you know it do you know the meek ways we have bathing the must for hibernating the need for book casing i feel i m getting better i feel it in my bones inside my body and underneath my clothes i m holding out for something i know nothing of what it is and i m waste deep in the middle of a mess like a splinter that s been lodged inside burying all the cold from seasons past that s it