Lyrics
Now that your thoughts & memories are scattered through 1000 trees.
I’m hoping hopelessly you can find your way back to the start.
Twisting and Turning.
Wake Up it’s Sunday Morning.
I’ll dry your Eyes.
Meet you inside.
Wake up it’s Sunday Morning.
This ain’t the end.
It’s not your time For Dying.
It happened so senselessly that I still don’t know what to believe.
I just want to take your hand and take you back to the start.
Midnight Burning.
Eyes are opening.
Wake Up it’s Sunday Morning.
I’ll dry your Eyes.
Meet you inside.
Wake up it’s Sunday Morning.
This ain’t the end.
It’s not your time For Dying.
PEDRO MIGUEL PACHECO ALMEIDA, RICHARD DALE HALL
Songtrust Ave