It Will All Make Sense In The Morning
Is this dirt and mud or is it flesh and blood?
When I reach my hands in, I can't tell where I end.
This will all make sense in the morning.
Are these roots and leaves, or is this a part of me?
When I reach my hands in, I feel life absorbing.
This will all make sense in the morning.
Oh, it's a little strange
It will all make sense in the morning.
