Rituals.

The music rolls down the list As I play each song To see if I still want it While the voices sing I try to write And as I am told That the music has died I feel the words Breathing last painful breaths My soul is deceased And I give up on the idea That I have anything to say But as I surrender to this My fingers find excuses To keep moving To speak of how Nothing I've ever written Has ever mattered And nothing I've written Has ever been read And nothing I've said Has ever been heard And every creative burst Has gone unnoticed My fingers speak Of how no one has ever cared And now neither do I So fuck them And fuck me And fuck you too.