For a song, you have to feel like singing.
For lyrical poem, sublimity,
with some blessed inspiration bringing.
Good feeling about …, in proximity.
But I can’t bring forth a musical sound.
Or strike a chord, as I have no right note.
Or speak of incredible beauty found,
if depressive thoughts source of what, then, wrote.
Although may construct fine verse from a death.
Or from horror of love unrequited.
Even, perhaps, from complete loss of faith.
Words to sing from that. Erudite, that said.
Long for a song, lips can happily pout.
Debouch. Large happening from narrow mouth.