The Morning Fresh

The morning fresh restores the soul. Worn down from the weeks' weathered aim. With some coffee that helps the roll. In a quest for fortune and fame. In a fast-paced world of woe. The morning fresh restores the soul. If one would reap then one must sow. But in the end life takes its toll. Then you feel that you're less than whole. And the night dreams of what's to come. The morning fresh restores the soul. While walking to a different drum. The valiant reign of silent pain. Like gunshots near a grassy knoll. When night reminds us of our shame. The morning fresh restores the soul.