Let not the stars see the tears in your eyes,
Nor the moon the pain in your soul,
Till the sun can rise and make you whole.
Rage is rife,
Lost in the valley of the grey of life,
Where every tree looks quite the same,
Not tall enough the catch the rain.
Days are cold,
With winter’s breath too chilled for snow,
So black and white are put away,
And once again there’s shades of grey.
Bones are bruised,
When all the fury has been used,
And lonely hearts submit to grief,
Then content the grey will sleep.