(The performer taps a silver harmonica against their palm. A long, lonely, low-register inhale begins the piece.) The Single Silver Reed (Verse 1: Low, rhythmic chugging) The freight train's gone, the steam is thin Just me and the air I’m breathing in No piano keys, no guitar strings Just the hollow sound that the metal brings I’m bent over double on a cypress stump Matching my heart to the rhythm’s thump. (Chorus: Wailing high notes with wide vibrato) Oh, one man’s breath is a lonely choir Catching the spark, fanning the fire From a deep-blue moan to a high-shelf scream Living inside of a tin-plated dream It’s a lonesome light, it’s a heavy lead The soul of the world on a single reed. (Bridge: Rapid-fire "wa-wa" hand effects) (Wa-wa, wa-wa, wheeze and a blow) The cup of my hands is the only room I know Close 'em tight for the midnight growl Open 'em wide for the hunter’s howl Slide it to the left for a minor sting Listen to the way that the silence rings. (Verse 2: Soft, melodic warbling) There’s a ghost in the pocket of my denim coat He lives in the space of a bended note He don’t need a band or a spotlight glare Just a bit of spit and a lungful of air To tell the story of the miles I’ve trod Between the dusty earth and the face of God. (Outro: Slow, fading chords) Draw it in... Let it out... The song is over, but the wind’s still stout. (One final, long, dying whistle that fades into the sound of the breeze.)