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`All she ever wrote, were of things that broke her heart.
All she ever wrote, were of things that broke her heart.
She let her tears hang on each letter,
Dripping off of the curves and lines.
She wore her heart on her hand,
Letting the pen move with its beating sound.
And when she cried, everyone knew;
Because her tears were spilled on the page.
All she ever wrote, were of things that broke her heart.
The things that made her feel that life was worth living.
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Music plays over a broken sound
Music plays over a broken sound
a sound of force that hums and pounds
It forces itself inside like a raging storm
and sneaks and flows through open doors
The music tries to overcome
but all thats left is the silent storm
it chills the bones and chills the day
and nothing seems to chase it away
The room is silent except for the hum
the hum that pierces the ear drums
It brings a darkness over your eyes
and nothing seems to be alright
So you try to force a scream
to wake yourself from this dream
but in a dream screams dont come
nothing is heard over the hum
Your heart it pounds in your ears
as the storm freezes all your tears
They fall and crack on the floor,
as the hum of the storm slips out your door.
The sun begins to come back in,
As a new day does begin.
The music plays for all to hear.
A song of love and a song of cheer.
It is a song that will overcome.
A melody delightful for everyone.
It will always get your through the day,
And chase your storm away.