The Sun on my face
My heart's filled with grace
for the happiness that you bring.
Music fills my life
without it, the pain cuts me like a knife;
that's why I sing.
You, my guitar, are the love that will stay
the love that can't be destroyed or pushed away
it's a persistant little thing.
My voice can't be overlooked
nor the escape found when I cook.
It's why to these things I cling.
But ultimately happiness is what you make it.
If it's handed to you, don't shun or break it.
Never crush the smile it brings.