Cling to What Makes You Happy


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.


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