The Murmurs claim on the sailor, farmer, poet, and residence

Here we see four unrelated people
Nothing complicated, it's all fairly simple:

    The sailor travels the nine seas
    Yes, there are nine, but it takes the sailors trained eye to see
    He catches fish for his pay
    But he's seen much more than fish in his day

    I'd like to tell of the mystics and myths he has encountered
    But it's so over used, so cliche, so I'll flip the counter
    Don't get me wrong, he's had his fair share of sights
    But once, just once, he felt like he finally lived life

    It wasn't upon passing a calm peaceful island
    No, it was under thrashing waves, when he felt like his time had come to an end
    Upon each time that he went under
    He could have sworn he heard a murmur
   
    He was rescued, yes
    But the noises never left his head
    He held onto them
    And was bound to see from what was there origin

    The sailor died on the seas
    But he never solved that mystery
    Till his last breath,
    The murmurs scorned, comforted, loved, and haunted him

Life goes on

    The farmer tills his land
    He grows callouses on his shaky hands
    He has grown old
    But he is still strong and bold

    He led a simple life
    Though he went through hell, he always waited out the strife
    In his soul, he came to peace
    Even though he knew, nothing would ever be green

    The struggles and pain he lived
    Was poured out from a ho and plow on the ground that he would dig
    He fed the animals, he fed his family
    All the while, O.K. with what he never could be

    He felt fulfillment working outside
    He had plenty of conversations with the earth, wind and sky
    But there was something he always heard, but wasn't sure if he liked the encounter
    Constantly he was invaded by a slow steady murmur

    Years passed, and the farmer died in his sleep
    Through years of being weathered and decayed, he had grown weak
    A siren song rocked him to sleep that night
    His last thought was gently took away, and he was taken on a melodious flight

Life goes on

    The poet sleeps on a bed of needles
    He writes about the pain, from old age to fetal
    He has encountered heartbreak
    And raining colors is all he contemplates

    He is misunderstood
    And poetry is not something he feels like he should
    He's not what people think
    He is a lost and lonely drip from the sink

    He is scared
    His true thoughts have never been shared
    He's not as deep as the world wants him to be
    He's never truly lived life, or traveled any seas

    He's a dead beat
    He could never get his life in sync
    He quietly cries
    But paints a lovely disguise

    The poet dies
    Not by an untimely suicide
    No, he was driven crazy
    Killed by an unknown maybe

    He was paranoid of it all along
    You could see in retrospective, reading his songs
    Murmurs
    Soft, loud, deadly, balanced, equal, perfect murmurs

Life goes on

    The residence drives home from an eight to five
    On the radio, he turns a station rambling on about political jive
    Music bounces off of his thoughts
    But a noise causes him to stop

    Red light
    It comes to life
    The murmurs
    He's heard them ever since he remembers

    All reality fades around him
    Dissolves into a stain on a coffee cup rim
    He feels his body slowing
    He feels the particles controlling

    A steady beat runs through his heart beat
    His mind steadies, too steady to think
    He breaths
    The murmurs speak

    Stories of grand life filled his past thoughts
    Thinking of great lives, while all he did was cough
    His thoughts of wanting more, had made him a consumption
    Now the murmurs finally comfort him

    The murmurs hold his vision
    He forgets his blank revisions
    He listens to the murmurs
    He understands them, they no longer feel like hunters

    He draws another unconscious breath
    When a semi drives straight into his head
    The murmurs visit this world again and again
    Don't listen, they'll take a claim on you, just like with them

Life goes on