|
He knows the forest floor |
|
and the way that it moves |
|
like waves on the ocean. |
|
He rises with the sun, |
|
just to see the light shine |
|
on the path before him. |
|
And sometimes he feels like |
|
he's walking on water |
|
It's the miracle of day, |
|
and it beckons him to stay, |
|
and he says halleluiah |
|
for the morning. |
|
When night is closing in |
|
and he feels like a child |
|
backed into a corner, |
|
he can't communicate |
|
with the weight that he has |
|
wrapped around his shoulders. |
|
And sometimes he feels like |
|
he can't bare the darkness. |
|
But the miracle of day |
|
beckons him to stay. |
|
And he says, |
|
halleluiah for the morning, |
|
halleluiah for beginning again, |
|
beginning again. |
|
It feels like life and death |
|
until he gets it off his chest. |
|
And he screams into the dark, |
|
the night won't take his heart. |
|
At those times he feels like |
|
he's moving a mountain. |
|
It's the miracle of day, |
|
and it beckons him to stay, |
|
and he says halleluiah for the morning, |
|
halleluiah for the morning, |
|
halleluiah for beginning again, |
|
beginning again. |
|
And sometimes he feels like he's walking on water. |
