There's whispers among people—
There's whispers in a crowd.
Sometimes they're small and harmless
but they're mostly harsh and loud.

There's whispers about secrets, 
and things already known,
and I can't quite escape them
even deep within my home.

Sometimes they whisper truthfully,
sometimes its blatant lies,
but they cannot be distinguished
by my blurry human eyes

There's whispers about you sometimes
they tell me that you're gone
and if I dare to listen
then they'll whisper "you're alone."

Sometimes I feel empty,
I think whispers make me whole—
But am I a good person
with these whispers in my soul?

There's whispers in my heart sometimes,
there's whispers in my head,
It's hard to carry heavy things,
like whispers carved in lead.