I sing myself to sleep,
It's the only way to keep from crying,
And I pray that each day will get better,
So that my heart will keep from dying.
I dream about him every night,
But I only awake to see,
That he is never coming back,
So from my eyes I wipe the debris.
I wake up sometimes,
And find that I have cried in my sleep,
And all that's left of my heart now,
Is a small, broken heap.
So again I sing a song,
To keep my mind away,
But I just can't help to think,
Of what things would be like today.
My heart would be whole,
And my face would be dry,
And the songs that I sing,
Would never make me cry.
