Some of the best country songs
were written by broken hearts,
girl,
so don't tell me
you can only write on good days.

How easily I could give in,
allow my soul to harden
as the evil rakes its claws across my skin,
trying to swallow my soul.
How easy it would be
to allow the hate to consume me,
I could release,
unleash
all my rage built up inside.
But instead I just paint my nails black.

That storm that rages within you,
let it out.
Throw your wind at the trees
and learn what can stand the test.
Drop your rain in buckets,
flood the neighboring towns
and overflow the river.
Let it all go.
Clouds can't hold more than they're meant to,
and neither can you.

That storm that rages within you,
let it out.
Throw your wind at the trees
and learn what can stand the test.
Drop your rain in buckets,
flood the neighboring towns
and overflow the river.
Let it all go.
Clouds can't hold more than they're meant to,
and neither can you.

Your mouth forms a snarl
and when you bite at your words I can taste your conviction.
You live blindly,
a floating leaf in the wind
or the stream,
wherever suits your need of the moment.
I won't be the log in your river,
bumping your boat while you pass through,
and I won't be the tower breaking through your cloud.
I'll be the lighthouse
shining through the storm you created,
strong and still.
You can growl your argument
through broken teeth,
but my rocks won't be to blame.