When It Is Played

It's not the tune that makes the man Nor the words writ from his hand But when he shakes from fear and loss They both come crawling out of him He will not choose the form it takes Only its hours and its days And then it rises from the sand It is brought forth by no mistake So let it move about Let it howl and shout Without hindering or stepping in its way When at last it is done You will know it by the sound Of silence in the room when it is played Now Jacob Christopher, you've run From every song under the sun By heeding words spoken o'er mine And I will not listen when you strum