I know time has a funny way as it may
Of sneaking up on you
Don’t you ever sell yourself short
And I know there ain’t no sun today
Yesterday was likewise a grey one
The view from the windowsill is a bore
It's a bore
But then the rain came and rose up a flower
Smiling in the wind as she waved
And with the pace of the clock plays a score
Through the passing of hours
But you’ll never hear it
With your back turned away
I know i’m not the one to say as i lay
And count the cracks in the ceiling
But don’t you ever sell yourself short
I know that the sun we crave day to day
Shines on all that you’d love to hide
By the windowsill on the floor
And you’re torn
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