My Microphone My Rules By Ruth Dixon

My Microphone, my rules They be the fools Who think otherwise Who fixate their piercing eyes on me Expect me to enunciate, antici ... Pate exactly how they think it should be. My microphone, my rules These be the tools That connect us all It's my call if I choose to switch it on and feel the words tumbling, humbling my soul And not just hear the moment once it's gone. My microphone, my rules Hail the crown jewels This majestic sound Of our voices that right now surround me Whilst they sit behind thick glass flailing, failing to grasp This which sets us free My microphone, my rules They were the fools Who thought it not Who forgot to stop the moment turn to stone And now I'm grabbing, stabbing at their souls My rules, my microphone.

Copyright © Ruth Dixon 2011

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