B7 E B7 E
Morningside, the old man died,
and no one cried, they simply turned away.
And when he died, he left a table made of nails and pride,
and with his hands he carved these words inside; "For my children."
Morning light, morning bright,
I spent the night with dreams that make you weep.
Morning time, wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine,
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