The Cry

Wrenches open the heartstrings
Tugs at the ripped seams
Lays bare the furrowed wound ends
Strums long at the nerve ends

Moves me along the walkway
Keeps me within the ranks
I stay part of the rat race
I stay part of the commune

Makes the morning turn into warm afternoons
The evening shines along with the night song
My nine to five gets carried smoothly
My party style stays sharp and smooth

And all with my most painful cry
All with just a smile