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.