Morning Story - Jack Bruce

Running, jumping, pushing its way

Mornings nighttime blends into day

Can’t find curtains to shut it away

We were alone in the hills of the night

Now the neon dawn lets in the light

And the milkman that nobody knows

Leaves bottles of tears

At the house full of laughter

Nobody ever hears

O the grass is burned black

By the ships coming back from the stars, golden stars

Seas turned to steam

When we boiled the dream of tomorrow, tomorrow

When it gets light

Some of them always stay

She’s dressed in white

Till the smoke turns her grey

Falling, stumbling, feeling its way

Mornings nighttime moves into day

Can’t find warmth to keep it away

Used to be alone on the waves of cloud

Now the flotsam dawn brings in the crowd

And the angel who sits in her car

Full of desire

But the hoses who came from the town

Put out her fire

O the seas have run dry

And the sun’s one good eye is too blind to see

Sky has gone bad

From the good times we had burning bright, such good times

When it gets light

Some of them always stay

She’s dressed in white

Till the smoke turns her grey