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My music box, open, pouring that beautiful melody into my [heart.]
Beauty of sorrow that pulses through my frail body.
My music box, so small, simple, and sweet.
It sits in the palm of my hand leading me to the clouds to sit the those delicate sounds.
My music box, that holds this joy of mine, holds a love so strong, divine, and uncommon.
My music box, closing soon, has done all it can for me.
This tiny piece of joy has a part of me in it.
My music box sings the beauty of sorrow.
My soul follows the last few lingering notes.
My music box, a gift for you, so I can sing my beautiful melody to you.
You'll [never] have to miss me, for my music box is my promise to you.