Who Are You When The Music Dies?

*I'm not sure what this is yet.

The places you've been at seventeen. 

I visited only in my wildest dreams. 

Your smile is revered, but your tears, 

you cried alone. Once loved. Now feared. 

Who are you when the music dies?

Who sees the true you inside? 

Who are you when the music dies? 

Who gives you somewhere to hide? 

You yearn to be free, at thirty three.

Shut away. They tell you what you need. 

Drain you of your song. Tears long gone. Scream till your hoarse “leave me alone.”

Who are you when the music dies?

Who sees the true you inside? 

Who are you when the music dies? 

Who gives you somewhere to hide?

Now you're forty years old.

(Where did your years go?)

They turn your blood into gold

(Where did your years go?)

What you reap they sow.

(Where did your years go?)

They bleed you to the bone.

(Where did your years go?)

But your shackles stay cold.

(Where did your years go?)

While the fame game gets old. 

(Where did your years go?)

They eclipsed your golden glow. 

(Where did your years go?)

Now no more, your tears flow. 

Who are you now the music's died?

Who tore you down from the inside? 

Who are you when the music's died? 

Who took your one place to hide?

When will your life be your own? 

When will they let you go?