Sitting+here+listening*

=Sitting Here Listening= media type="custom" key="28687736"

D C G C G x 2 C D G x 2 C G D G

I'm sitting here listening to the tin kettle whistling in this cold spring kitchen, My cigarette's shrinking and all the time I'm thinking about fact and fiction. I fold the daily paper up, I stare into my empty cup, I sit and wonder if I'm ever gonna find some truth.

I'm staring at the TV it doesn't mean a thing to me it's all so empty, Pious self promotion and selling cheap emotion in endless replay. I wonder just who makes it up, The voices hidden in the well timed cut I sit and listen for a voice that like the ones I know.

In between devotions plans are set in motion far across the ocean, Mystic incantation about God and love of nation feed a blind abstraction. From somewhere far away across the sea, I imagine someone just like me Sitting singing like a ghost into the empty sky.

In all the glowing lounge rooms the talk is quick and visions bloom in rich profusion, Denying the illusion that there's life without confusion such a rich diffusion. But through it all I hear some common words, The common cry to have our voices heard, I hear faint echoes coming back from un-transmitted souls.

I'm sitting here listening fact or fiction. But through it all untransmitted souls.