Cling to What Makes You Happy

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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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