Stories They Want To Hear (STWTH) Lyrics

At night, when the moon is out

They will form a circle and sit around

And their ears will itch for a perfect story

We will look them right in their faces

And say out loud, there is none

That the stories they wish to hear do not exist

We will tell them that the tales we have to tell

Whether of ourselves or the things

We have seen on this earth

All belong to a world distant from perfection

They will seek tales of utter bravery

But we will tell them of fears

We will tell them of scars

We will tell them of tears

They will want to hear that we reached these top floors through elevators

But we will tell them about the stairs

That there were little or no rosy ways around the steps

That on some days, our thighs hurt

But we kept climbing still

We will tell them of crooked lines

That straight lines are a myth

Oh, oh, oh, ok, maybe they exist

But only when drawing polygons

Shey they say our stories have shapes

But the geometry of our tales is made up of multiple jagged edges

And many intersecting arcs

To tell of a definite shape will be a false account

They will want to hear of days we fiercely faced our troubles head on

Of a skin barely graced by the opponent's weapon

Of egos that were never stepped on

But we will tell them of days our backs hit the ground hard

Days we were pushed down to the floor

Because we were cut off guard

When the word victory was too heavy for the muscles of our tongue

When the only songs we mouthed were sad rhythms under our breath

Beckoning for a bright future to come

I tell you, it was on these days that triumph was born

For roses never made a fine teacher like thorns

The finest sailors were crafted by storms

So at night in their minds we will flick a light bulb so they see

That we appreciate the short cause we have been through longer

We appreciate the food cause we have been through hunger

We appreciate the calm cause we once heard the thunder

If things were always easy we won't get any stronger

We will tell them, nah,

That we are not being sadists,

But there is no story without this

For the victories of ours that now exist

Only stemmed from conquering the pain

That we once lived, we will tell them