As the music starts, these songs I feel
This dream I've lived becomes too real.
I look inside, so deep within,
And see that's not what I have been.
The fears, the hurt, the pain, the loss,
Are not the toll my life has cost.
When all this time my heart's been blind,
As tears well up, behind closed eyes
I finally begin to see the true,
With eyes reopened, and renewed,
Looking now with brand-new sight
So ends the tunnel, comes the light.
But now I see it, deep inside,
So many things, so much alive.
I've tried so long to start to heal,
As the music starts, these songs I feel.

I can't bear the weight
Of all these things inside.
The rivers made of all the tears,
That I still haven't cried.
The dreams that haunt my longing
The fears that I can't see,
The mountains all are lain to waste,
And all that's left is me.

She sat at the dining room table,
reading the headlines of the news.
Wondering and wondering,
where was he tonight.
Peering out of the window,
into the darkness of night.
The moon fading in and out of the overcast,
was he seeing the same moon tonight?
No sounds were heard in the house,
except her breathing.
Everything was just quiet.
Emptiness.
Most of the days she spent waiting,
and waiting for him.
Six months gone by,
nothing yet.
Another six gone by,
as December rolls in.
She hangs the ornaments by herself that year.
The phone rings only has to ring twice,
until she answers.
"Baby, I'm coming home."