The wind carries my cries,
the rain pours down my tears,
but still you hear,
yet you dont seem to see.
All the hurt,
All the pain,
But I guess it was my fault,
for holding it in,
saying its fine,
then letting it out,
through my arms.
Watching it bleed.
Letting it flow.
but I wasn't crazy,
I just wanted you to see,
that there was hurt n' pian,
just too much for me.
Now you sing my lulaby,
as I sleep cold still,
and there will be no blood.
The wind will carry no cry.
The rain will pour down no tears,
cause you sang my lulaby,
that only the dead could hear.