Standard (EADGBE)
Were the nights any sweeter
Were the mornings any cooler, when she was here?
Was the mind accustomed to hearing "Good morning Dear"?
Should I still feel all the sunshine
That remembering brings to my mind in thoughts of her?
When Lord, we both know things could never be the way they were
Her little girl illusion
Builds a walls of confusion between right and wrong
They stand there between her and the dreams that I've cherished too long
All faded and tattered
But once all that mattered when she was here
And this mind's growed accustomed to hearing her say "Good morning dear"?