Drip, Drip. The sun won’t shine,
And I’m forced to sit alone.
The only song in a silent world
An orchestra of strings have gone cold.

Where has all the music gone?
Has it been swallowed by a people
desperate for vocal chords
but too scared to say utter a sound.

Not even the birds sing their tune,
Their whispering trees succumb to dark.
All the secrets could teach the world
Have been buried beneath the dead leaves.

Have the False Gods had their way?
Some hateful pages sparked a fire
Burning the true temples of old,
Living instruments scattered to ash.

All the laughter’s gone away,
Carried off on spreading bird's wings.
Childrens' voices once sung of youth
Were lost with the bodies in all the rubble.

Drip, drip, the sun won’t shine,
It hides its sorrow behind shy clouds.
The only song in a silent world
But now my strings have grown cold.