Thursday, February 17, 2005

Aural Pirate

When I sit on the sand and listen to the waves
Am I pirating from them?
Do they crash to their deaths,
The screams of agony drowned by the din?

When I hear the birds outside my bedroom window in the morning
Do I steal away their spirit?
Do they vanish hollow like their bones,
Flying south without their souls?

The conversation at the table next to mine,
Is it illegal when I eavesdrop?
Will they handcuff me to my chair,
Lock me up and throw away the key?

When my ancestors depart wisdom into my ear,
Am I allowed to hear?
Can I impart that same wisdom to my descendants
Or must I check the copyright first?

How can you copyright sound
Or the inflection and tone found in someone’s voice?
When I open my mouth to speak
Should I worry about breaking the law?

Why, that sounds like a fascist state to me.
Pretty soon my thoughts may become illegal,
Pretty soon we’ll be chasing a dream of what once was
When we used to be free.

Of all the beauty that exists in the world,
I would say that music is the most free.
It travels through the air
And never dissipates.



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