Make it your own once more and make it new
That once was his or hers. Perhaps they're dead.
You hear their voice competing in your head
And love and honour. And you tear down too
That you can recreate. When I translate
Changing the language helps though in a mist
Of not quite yet the word. Funambulist
Trapeze tight walking taking what was great
Real time inventing yours a harder part
Getting what's loved each time both first and right
Performance knife you tread cut feet each night
Both yours and mine not greatest hardest art
Submit our music to another's voice
We sing out proud and humble in this choice.