#rhythm practice

I am suppressed on normal days. Like a shiny piece of coal in a pile to burn I rumble through existence with the rest of them I wait my turn. I am silent on this charcoal hill Speaking softly to whatever I touch But my fellows are speaking of fiery hell In a chorus of broken voices We do not die here Forgotten in the furnace In eternity we will share The same longing voice We will sing off key, but this is a normal day Tomorrow was not a normal day It was a day I shone in the rays of the sun The voices beneath lifted me up together We sang as one, we knew the words And I was a diamond, never roughed.