Lyrics
[guitar solo]
The serpent's hiss has echoed in my heart
Since childhood days, a whisper in the dark,
A coiling fear that kept me in its hold,
A shadow clinging, leaving me unbold.
Introvert's cloak, a haven I would crave,
Amongst the pines, where stillness finds its cave.
Silence, my muse, a symphony unplayed,
For crowds, a burden, voices that evade.
Yet irony's cruel grin, a twist of fate,
A silver tongue upon a trembling plate.
Words flow like honey, spun in webs of ease,
While whispers weave of doubts that no one sees.
No silver spoon, just sweat and borrowed wit,
I play the lead, a role I never fit.
A jester juggling fears, a smile's disguise,
A king on stage, while panic claws inside.
No scholar's wisdom grazes my dull mind,
But self-awareness, truths I can't deny.
The gap between what's known and what remains
Fills my own bowl, a comfort, not a stain.
The spotlight hums, a furnace on my skin,
The serpent's hiss, the doubt that creeps within.
But hold, this beast, once master, now my steed,
My voice its rider, where once I only bleed.
So fear became the fuel, the furnace's core,
Anxiety's fire, a power to explore.
No longer buried, caged, a beast to quell,
It dances now, a partner, not a hell.
From restless head it takes its frantic flight,
Downwards into the gut, a churning blight,
A nauseous coil, a knot that cannot rest,
But finds no solace in that churning chest.
Then limbs ignite, a conduit for the blaze,
The voice unfurls, a torrent's whispered phrase.
Adrenaline's surge, a wave across the tide,
From fingertips it ripples, where anxieties hide.
Adrenaline, a torrent through my veins,
Drives fingers dancing, ignites laughter's gains.
The monster's fury, honed to keenest edge,
Transformed to fire, on fear's domain I tread.
And by the time it circles back to mind,
The serpent sloughs, its venom left behind.
A radiant dance, a smile upon my face,
The monster tamed, a tool I now embrace.
No longer master, but a friend I know,
The serpent's whisper, a familiar flow.
My body's orchestra, in perfect tune,
Anxiety's rhythm, woven in the moon.
[soulful singing]
This anxious dance, my burden and my art,
Has forged a soul that dares to play its part.
No longer victim, but a craftsman bold,
From fear's own forge, a story to be told.
For I am captain now, of flesh and bone,
The fear my compass, leading me unknown.
But in the quiet corners of my soul, I hear
The serpent's song, a melody held dear.
