Morning has come, With the first rays of sun, Breakin` through our window pane. Songs fill the air, But there`s no singer there, Just an old wooden guitar playin`.
Writing a song, Won`t take very long, Trying not to use the word "old". Thinking about, Taking chances and doubts, That still linger in the cold.
Looking forward, All that I can see, Is good things happening to you and to me. I`m not waiting, For times to change. I`m going to live, Like a free-roamin` soul, On the highway of our love.
Looking forward, All that I can see, Is good things happening to you and to me. I`m not waiting, For times to change. I want to live, Like a free-roamin` soul, On the highway of our love.
Morning has come, With the first rays of sun, Breaking through our window pane. Songs fill the air, But there`s no singer there, Just an old wooden guitar playin`.
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