The Music’s Dead

The music's dead. No song to sing.
No path to run. Nowhere to be.
The music's dead. Can't bear a tune.
Can't feel rhythm, without you.

I heard the sounds of the morning rain.
Rain or sunshine, now sound the same.
I heard laughter, music to my ear.
It's quiet now. Don't have you here.

The music's dead.
My soul, my heart, died with the dream, of you.
The music's dead.
Stillness in tune. Each note of life, the same, not new.

The music's dead.
All quiet and mute. No whisper from branches on the trees.
The music's dead. And nothing's true.
The music of life, you held with you.

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