Whenever there is love between two people, there is a chance their interactions will gradually dialecticize, giving birth to new meanings that remain private, confidential. When that relationship ends, that unique language dies.

Here are the words for this week's sketch:

A Language Died 

It was as subtle as the tears that hit the grass 

both things being out of our control  

The secret motions beckoning your touch 

the sweet cryptography familiar just to us 

intimate grammar that coded common thoughts 

and sacred symbols that made me feel at home 

There used to be some magic in display  

in the way our conversations used to play 

there used to be a smile on certain words 

glances that meant something in our world  

there used to be a realm that is now closed 

and all that's left are memories and ghosts  

A language died.

Santos & Alba