A letter sits on a shelf.
Unread for reasons I’m still trying to figure out.
In all my darkest hours, I never wanted anything more.
Than the truth dangling from your lips.
A song lives in the keys of a piano.
Unsympathetic to all the people who crave to hear it.
Of all the melodies in the world, I listen to my heart.
Longer than usual, if only we weren’t so far apart.
It’s so easy to say I believe in you.
And even harder to believe in me.
Forgive me for my doubts.
I’m clouded from the inside out.
It can’t be sunshine everyday.
No it can’t be sunshine everyday.
And the pain comes down.
Like a bullet from their gun.
And you can’t see the face, of the person who starts to run.
But it’s plain to see, it’s all done.
I’m sorry that I began to run.
But it can’t be sunshine everyday.