Lonely in my room,
I sit on my bed.
My head hung low, with my hair in my face.
My back arched softly, with my head hung low.
Slow painful music , creeps into my ears,
Creeps in to remind me , of my unhappiness.
The sound of the music is the sound of my pain.
The guitar screams, so slow the pain.
The drums sing in voices of sweet sorrow.
This music has power.
It has been given power.
