Somewhere amongst the madness,
delirium and sadness,
There lies a little happy place called home.

It's a feeling that you just belong,
another heart that sings your song,
The colour in amongst the monochrome.

It doesn't have to be a place,
sometimes it's just the gentle face
that whispers; "Rest, there's no more need to roam..."

Woven in between the branches of the willow tree,
Midnight snares the wind and stars,
and whispers soft to me,
"Still your heart and still your mind, for what will be will be."
Rolling through the days and months
the willow dances on,
Swaying in the autumn winds, catching summer's song,
And still she whispers soft to me,
And still I linger on.
I watch her bend and twist with life,
Elegant and sure,
Shouldering the harshest storms and dancing all the more,
And how I wish that I were she,
Eternally demure.