When she was but a little thing, her tears hid in the wardrobe of her mind
And even though she sought them out, they always found a smile to crouch behind
Her mother thought her lovely, her playmates thought her brave
Her teacher thought her happy, her father thought her saved
But who could know?

Throughout her budding springtime, she would face the tiptoe darkness on her own
With every grazing heartache came a spell that turned her shell into a stone
Her mother thought her lovely, her friends all thought her mad
Her lover thought her frozen, her father thought her sad
But who could know…

What turns her grey? What makes her run? Who’d make her stay?

I don’t know where they are
I don’t know where they go
The words that whisper low
I don’t know how to show them.

I don’t know where they are
I don’t know where they go
The words that whisper low
I don’t know how to show them.

When silver started growing, still her sad and secret voice stayed out of sight
Her days were filled with laughter, but she heard the whispers creeping up at night
Her mother thought her lovely, her colleagues thought her cold
Her husband thought her happy, her children thought her old
But who could know…

What turns her grey? What makes her run? Who’d make her stay?

I don’t know where they are
I don’t know where they go
The words that whisper low
I don’t know how to show them.

I don’t know where they are
I don’t know where they go
The words that whisper low
I don’t know how to show them.