There is a sound They don't want you to own Arrest every word That escapes from your throat They hand you the world's smallest microphone It's still too loud and you're asked to go home She can stay as long as she swears That when she breathes it will be Her own air She'll state her case and take up space And that suffocates- The professional There is a sound that they want You to hear To drown out the voice That plays in your ear They hand you the world's biggest razor blade An amateur bleeds But she hardly gets paid She can be mad but they'll let her know The scorched earth Allows nothing to grow And she'll be blamed but feel no shame Cuz she'll have stopped- The professional