In a room where shadows weave,
Echoes of a life deceived,
There's a sound that cuts through night,
A bitter truth held out of sight.
Notes like whispers, thick with pain,
Carried by the falling rain,
Deep grooves in the pavement speak,
Of tired hearts and dreams that seek.
The dying flame, it flickers low,
Memories in undertow,
A haunting melody unfurls,
As the past begins to swirl.
I face the mirror, lost and torn,
A ghost in echoes, bruised and worn,
The harmonica cries out my name,
Sweet, sad song that feeds my shame.
Step by step through shifting past,
Chasing shadows, may they last,
Each breath a chance, each note a plea,
To find the life that's meant for me.
The shadows dance as secrets sigh,
While the harmonica's lullaby,
Wraps around what’s broke and scarred,
Heart so heavy, yet hopeful, charred.
I’ll mend the cracks with every song,
In the twilight where I belong,
And as the twilight starts to fade,
I find my peace in the serenade.
Softly drifting, the night retreats,
In the silence, my heart beats,
A future bright begins to rise,
With every tear and every sigh.
The past behind, the road ahead,
I gather strength from what I’ve shed,
As the harmonica softly plays,
I embrace the dawn of brighter days.
No more crying, just a refrain,
Where shadows linger, joy remains,
In the groove of life, I stake my claim,
A heart reborn, a whisper of flame.
Blues
Crying harmonica, shadowy past, bitter truth, deep grooves, dying flame
Blues
Crying harmonica, shadowy past, bitter truth, deep grooves, dying flame