Verse 1 Life came close with a red-burning face, Thunder in her voice, no mercy, no grace, Even the clock held its breath in the room, When she threw her accusations like sparks into gloom. “You promised me fields full of golden grain, But harvest arrived and there was nothing to claim.” I stood like a bird with a storm in its wings, Leaving behind all the fragile things. Pre-Chorus I had no courtroom, no words to defend, No perfect excuse I could twist or pretend, Just a heart on the floor and a fear in my bones, Trying to survive in a house made of stones. Chorus But I found lessons in the fire, A rope in the well, a voice in the wire, Every wound became a map To the road that brought me back. I was not the empty field, I was seed beneath the shield, And the flames that came to break me Taught my soul to rise and sing. Verse 2 I waited for butterflies over my bed, To carry the dreams that my tired body fled, My mind was a courtroom, my tongue was a lie, A counterfeit silver beneath a bright sky. So I gathered the pieces, the proof and the pain, Searching for justice in the cold, falling rain, Like Joseph below where the daylight was gone, Calling for mercy, but learning alone. Pre-Chorus Then I stopped chasing every verdict and name, Stopped begging the world to explain all the blame, Because some storms arrive with no reason to show, Yet leave you a compass for where you must go. Chorus Yes, I found lessons in the fire, A rope in the well, a voice in the wire, Every wound became a map To the road that brought me back. I was not the empty field, I was seed beneath the shield, And the flames that came to break me Taught my soul to rise and sing. Bridge Now I tune my broken strings, Turn my scars to honest things, Every hard and bitter day Carved a different kind of way. I am more than what I lost, More than every hidden cost, When the next dark hour calls my name, I’ll meet it with a wiser flame. Final Chorus I found lessons in the fire, A rope in the well, a voice in the wire, Every wound became a map To the road that brought me back. I am not the empty field, I am seed that will not yield, And the flames that came to break me Made me music, made me wings. Outro Life may come with thunder eyes, But I have learned how storms can rise… And still become A song.
