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(Don McGlashan) |
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She turns her face to the wall |
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She won't let anybody see her |
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The winter comes and sits |
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Where the window doesn't fit |
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And she cries herself awake another morning |
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Across the street a cafe |
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And the sound of people laughing |
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Her heart it wants to go |
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But the rest of her says no |
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And she lies under the weight of another morning |
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Another morning |
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She might have flown away with the day |
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With her sorrow circling below her |
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Another morning could see her swinging high above the crowds |
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With the feeling that they all want to know her |
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But the truth is that she |
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Don't know who she'll be tomorrow |
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Just what face to wear |
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Or the way she'll do her hair |
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And that's why she's so afraid of another morning |
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But the truth is that she |
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Don't know who she'll be tomorrow |
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Just what face to wear |
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Or the way she'll do her hair |
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And that's why she's so afraid of another morning |
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Why's she so afraid of another morning? |
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Oh, why's she so afraid of another morning? |
