In the small hours of the morning,
Over the putter patter of rain,
There is a girl who hears them speak ,
And gladly does refrain.
She could not see what the world saw,
She sees not in black and white,
But in a vibrant vivid shade,
Radiating with light.
Music was her therapist,
The baseline was her friend,
And the chorus was a fantastic day,
You didn't want to end.
Because even on the coldest nights,
Music was always there,
And even in this mad mad world,
Music was always fair.
It was there from start to finish,
To when the day was done,
Through sleet, snow and wind,
Or on a dazzling island in the sun.
And as this girl continues,
But does not know what to say,
She can just sigh and know,
It is time to press play.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
In the small hours of the morning,
Over the putter patter of rain,
There is a girl who hears them speak ,
And gladly does refrain.
She could not see what the world saw,
She sees not in black and white,
But in a vibrant vivid shade,
Radiating with light.
Music was her therapist,
The baseline was her friend,
And the chorus was a fantastic day,
You didn't want to end.
Because even on the coldest nights,
Music was always there,
And even in this mad mad world,
Music was always fair.
It was there from start to finish,
To when the day was done,
Through sleet, snow and wind,
Or on a dazzling island in the sun.
And as this girl continues,
But does not know what to say,
She can just sigh and know,
It is time to press play.