Those who love will never find it. Those who love will write odes to crisp fall mornings And hear symphonies crunched out of the yellow leaves beneath their feet. Those who love will smile, even though they know it will give them away They will offer themselves up as if they had never given the mirror a second glance, Let themselves be beaten like drums, And a drum is just a bucket of silence until you beat something out of it, Beat something out of it.
Those who love will find poetry in the steam of their coffee And beauty in even the worst of times; Leave names like kristallnacht in our history books because they know that broken glass looks like stars, And when a person truly loves there is nothing, nothing that can stop them from hoping. People are like buckets of silence Until you make something out of them, Make something beautiful.
People who love know that tears are the same as rain, and they are ready for monsoons Because loving is lonely, and for every drop out of shining eye there are hundreds more waiting in the sky and the people who love will dance in the downpour, Collect every drop they can hold where the silence once was because drums can hold tears too, and they will still be silent until you splash and make something out of it, make something beautiful.