Misc Your Songs - Voidbass - filled and emptied but untasted

^AmDoes it ^Fbother ^Cyou? The ^Gstories un^Dmtold, un^Fheard of? ^CAll these lives ^Amlived, and ^Fno one ^Cknows. ^EmSilent ^Fwalkers. This ^Amworld is ^Cfull, yet ^Dmstill ^Ffilling. So ^Fmmany stor^Cies. ^AmYet we ^Fonly ^Cknow a few ^Gwords. ^CmWe are ^Gblind to the ^Cchapters^G7. ^AmBilli^Fons of ^Cbooks, and ^Gwe just keep ^Dmwriting for blind ^Feyes. There's ^Cmusic un^Amheard, ^Fmelodies un^Cplayed and ^Emtunes un^Fsung. What ^Amis a library ^Cfor if ^Dmnot to be ^Fbrowsed? ^FmWe are oblivi^Cous. ^FDoes it bother ^Canyone ^Gthat we speak to a ^Fmdead audi^Cence?

The ^Fmglass is ^Cpoured, ^Emfilled and then ^Cmdrunk. ^GEmpty lies the bottle upon the ^Amfloor. ^BbmEvery man his own brewer of his ^Cwine ^FmUntil at ^Clast his ^Emorchard ^Cmdries. His ^Gbottles will dry and ^Amcrack, And ^Ebno one will know his ^Dtaste. His ^F#mglass will shatter to deaf ^Fmears, And his ^Cmbrew will go to ^Cwaste.

^AmWe plug ^Finto the ^Cworld, but we ^Gread so ^Dmlittle, hear ^Fso little. ^CSo much music, ^Amso little time. ^FBookshelves un^Ctouched, ^Emdrowned in ^Fdust. ^AmToo much time ^Cspent on our ^Dm9 to 5's, and ^Fnothing left for the ^Fmunheard compo^Csers. We ^Amall have ^Fdreams, some ^Cbroken, ^Gsome dead and a^Cmbandoned. So ^Gfew a^Cchieved^G7. Like ^Amnightmares we ^Fwalk, a^Cfraid and a^Gbandoned. ^DmClosed off and ^Fsheltered. The ^Conly eyes that ^Amread us are ^Four ^Cown, the ^Emmirrors our biggest ^Ffans. ^AmMaybe it's ^Ctime that we ^Dmslow down and ^Ftake time to ^Fmread something ^Cnew. ^FTime to ask a ^Cquestion^G, ^Fmmeaningless but full of poten^Ctial.

The ^Fmglass is ^Cpoured, ^Emfilled and then ^Cmdrunk. ^GEmpty lies the bottle upon the ^Amfloor. ^BbmEvery man his own brewer of his ^Cwine ^FmUntil at ^Clast his ^Emorchard ^Cmdries. His ^Gbottles will dry and ^Amcrack, And ^Ebno one will know his ^Dtaste. His ^F#mglass will shatter to deaf ^Fmears, And his ^Cmbrew will go to ^Cwaste.

^AmAsk a stranger a^Fbout their ^Cstory, and ^Gmaybe they'll ^Dmread you a ^Fchapter. ^CMillions of songs and ^Amwe confine our^Fselves to ^Cour favor^Emite play^Flists. ^AmDoes it scare ^Canyone else ^Dmthat the ^Fmost important ^Fmpeople to ^Cus ^AmCame in^Fto our ^Clives by ^Gchance? A ^Cmstranger turned ^Glover by ^Cchance^G7? The ^Ammonster under our ^Fbeds is ^Cfate, ^Gthe most ^Dmterrifying of all ^Fmyths. ^CSometimes kind, ^Amother times ^Fcruel. ^FPossibly ^Ccaring, ^Emmaybe de^Fceitful. The ^Amone diety ^Cwe cannot ^Dmturn our ^Fbacks to, ^Fmeverlasting ^Ccontrol. ^FUnless we take ^Ctime to ^Gread new lines, ^Fmtaste new ^Cflavors.

The ^Fmglass is ^Cpoured, ^Emfilled and then ^Cmdrunk. ^GEmpty lies the bottle upon the ^Amfloor. ^BbmEvery man his own brewer of his ^Cwine ^FmUntil at ^Clast his ^Emorchard ^Cmdries. His ^Gbottles will dry and ^Amcrack, And ^Ebno one will know his ^Dtaste. His ^F#mglass will shatter to deaf ^Fmears, And his ^Cmbrew will go to ^Cwaste.

^AmFate is a ^Fwild card, ^Cunreadable and ^Fpowerful. ^COne small ^Amchange, ^Fone small de^Ccision can ^Emchange the ^Fworld. Is ^Amanyone else a^Cfraid of the ^Dmendless variables, the ^Fconstant un^Ccertanty? This ^Amfear ^Ccaptivates me and ^Cmyet I ^Gcannot tear my ^Ceyes a^G7way.

^CPut down your pens, and ^Fpick up a book. ^EmClose your books and read something ^Amnew. ^DmFind a new glass to drink from. ^GmOpen your ^Fadd9ears, your ^Em7eyes, your ^Gheart and ^Cmind.