The hope is that your voice can come up from the pit louder than the whisper of the thoughts that brought you down there.
"Follow my voice,” she'll say.
I’ll answer, "Follow you anywhere."
It'll look like a silent film, and I'll hold a bottle of liquor—written on the side: “XXX.”
Using the prop, I'll attempt to dig towards the sound of her voice.
She’d tell me, "We're not magnificent, you know?”
"I know,” I’ll say. “But I thought we were."
The earth will stain my knuckles black.
I’ll drink with exaggerated movements, just like a silent actor—undercranked.
"Follow my voice,” she'll say.
I’ll answer, "Follow you anywhere."
It'll look like a silent film, and I'll hold a bottle of liquor—written on the side: “XXX.”
Using the prop, I'll attempt to dig towards the sound of her voice.
She’d tell me, "We're not magnificent, you know?”
"I know,” I’ll say. “But I thought we were."
The earth will stain my knuckles black.
I’ll drink with exaggerated movements, just like a silent actor—undercranked.
