There’s a little light in my heart,
and every day I do my part
to make sure it keeps on glowing,
protected from the winds blowing
That dim point cupped in my fingers
is where all the brightness lingers
It’s the part holding back the storm;
the final thing keeping me warm
But each moment it grows weaker,
and I feel a little bleaker
It’s so hard to hold on longer
with the winds just getting stronger
I know one day a gust will come,
and the little light will succumb
My tiny beacon will go out,
leaving me in darkness and doubt
How am I supposed to survive
without that little light alive?