The Mute - Commentary

Well as a child I mostly spoke inside my head,
I had conversations with the clouds, the dogs, the dead,
And they thought me broken, that my tongue was coated lead,
But I just couldn't make my words make sense to them,
If you only listen with your ears,
I can't get in
And I spent my evenings pulling stars out of the sky,
And I'd arrange them on the lawn where I would lie
And in the wind I'd taste the dreams of distant lives,
And I would dress myself up in them through the night,
While my folks would sleep in separate beds,
And wonder why
And through them days I was a ghost atop my chair,
My dad considered me a cross he had to bear,
And in my head I'd sing apologies and stare,
As my mom would hang the clothes across the line,
And she would try to keep the empty
From her eyes
So then one afternoon I dressed myself alone,
I packed my pillowcase with everything I owned,
And in my head I said goodbye then I was gone,
And I set out on the heels of the unknown,
So my folks could have a new life of their own,
And then maybe I could find someone,
Who could hear the only words,
That I'd known.