The songs are crying murmuring weeping praying and I listen to their tones rising and falling melodies unfolding tensions releasing in my mind's memory where no one else can hear they plead with me to play them sing them but I won't because I did have done many times too many times over and over and I know if I start they will flood my mind echoing repeating over and over incessant on and on their words simple inevitable words unfolding their story then starting all over again but I won't I did and I have and I won't and my violin can stay in its case and my guitar can stay on its stand I won't sing you I won't sing you you can go round and round and round and round I won't sing you
