There's no song I can sing to bring you back.
Melodies dance,
Little notes that call your name.
They spring from my heart,
They come to my lips,
No matter how I fight them, they're there.
My heart is chalk full of songs for you.
Soulfully I sing them,
The happy little notes content
to orchestrate my sorrows
As if you could hear them.
Why won't they bring you back?
Bits of my very soul are forced through
As the songs burst from my heart!
Shouldn't that be enough?
Enough to prove that I'm qualified,
That I have just as much a right to be happy,
As any other ridiculous person on this ridiculous planet?
Course not.
But I keep on singing.
Blazing notes and phrases
Still springing up and bubbling over
Softly,
A little obnoxious, actually.
But there you go, I suppose.
You just aren't coming back.
But I'll sing your songs
