Even words have graveyards, collusive and convoluted agendas piled high atop one another, twisting and turning in coffins of thoughts falling from bitter mouths. Where to send the bones of the big-hearted when countless freshly dug lies pile up regularly before our eyes. Don’t count any souls among the missing if they’re not heard amidst all this noise. The sinner’s song may be the loudest, but its fatal intentions will eventually rust its instruments. Then we’re left with the music of truer, purer words that defy death, stay with us through time.