|
there is a sound they don' t want you to own |
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arrest every word that escapes from your throat |
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they hand you the world's smallest microphone |
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it's still too loud and you're asked to go home |
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she can stay as long as she swears |
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that when she breathes it will be her own air |
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she'll state her case and take up space |
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and that suffocates... |
|
The Professional |
|
there is a sound that they want you to hear |
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to drown out the voice that plays in your ear |
|
they hand you the world's biggest razorblade |
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an amateur bleeds but she hardly gets paid |
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she can be mad but they'll let her know |
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the scorched earth allows nothing to grow |
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and she'll be blamed but feel no shame |
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'cause she'll have stopped... |
|
THE PROFESSIONAL |
