To Permit the Outflow (Discharge)

Lyrics

[Intro]
In this dim study, Samuel Johnson's dictionary lies open.
1755, the year it was bound in calfskin.
I speak to you, old book, your yellowed pages whispering secrets.
Discharge, the word that flows like ink from a quill.

[Verse 1]
First, to disburden.
Like unloading a ship at the docks of London,
on a foggy morning in November 1755.
The crates of tea from distant colonies,
set down on the wet cobblestones,
releasing the weight from the hull.
Samuel noted it, his quill scratching the vellum.
To exonerate the soul, perhaps, from its quiet sins.

[Chorus]
Discharge, you permit the outflow.
From burdens to freedoms, you name the release.
In this leather chair by the gas lamp,
I trace your meanings with a fingertip,
feeling the rough texture of time.

[Verse 2]
To dismiss, as from service.
The soldier at the Old Bailey, 1782,
discharged from His Majesty's regiment,
his papers signed with a flourish of wax seal.
Or the clerk released from his desk at dusk,
walking home through the coal-smoke streets.
Johnson wrote it, divest of office,
like shedding a coat too heavy for spring.

[Bridge]
And to perform, to execute a duty.
The cannon's roar in naval slang, 1840,
a discharge echoing over the waves.
Or the task completed, the promise fulfilled,
in the chill of this 14-degree room,
where shadows stretch at 4 PM.
Emit, let out, like breath from tired lungs.

[Verse 3]
Now, the medical one, brief as a notation.
Bodily outflow, noted last in the ledger.
Nothing more, a clinical term in passing.

[Outro]
Old dictionary, you've discharged your wisdom.
In this Victorian study, with its musty air,
we close the book, the lamp flickering low.