Morning After
The morning after, the sun is beaming
The world is streaming, with no particular meaning
The wind is blowing, while the boats are flowing
To the beautiful insight, of the flowers cloning
The birds is singing, to the whistleing of the breezing
While this girl heart is cold and freezing
Thinking of some reason, that her mind is in season
While the leaves from the trees is leaving
The rain starts to fall, as she stares in the sky so tall
Seeing the shadows of the raindrops on the wall
More then a woman, but less then she ever can
The sound of the marching band
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