The music that plays all through our home
Is quietly woven behind closed doors.
It reminds us all where we are from,
The symphonies undoubtedly yours.
You never let the iron rust
Our silver never tarnished,
Because you always were the gold,
Shining serenely in the dust.
The notes all sing in harmony,
And take away the pain.
The cacophony and melody
Running through our veins.
You were always there to hold
When everything crumbled,
And the world turned cold;
We were all humbled by your love.
And the music that plays all through our home
Is all because of you.
It reminds us where we are from,
And how much we all love you.
The music never dies,
The soul reigns true to the heart.
The composer reprises
His love for the art.
You are the composer of our life’s song,
Inspiring us to create our own.
In this world we strum along
To the sound we’ve always known.
Your love is a rhythm running ceaselessly through our bones.
And like no other,
It reminds us that we’re not alone.
And we’re so proud to call you our mother.