Bringing fruit of sun,
in the dish of the sky.
Making birds sing,
god never shy.
Morning raga is sung by every priest,
all feeling fresh, men or beast.
Bells ringing in church,
the truth which monk search.
Bird’s noise in the sky,
let you feel high.
Kids going to school,
babies feeling cool.
Fog in the ground,
the relationship we found,
everywhere, everybody,
enjoying the morning...
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