Oh in the morning,
I stumble, my way towards, the mirror
and my makeup, its light out, and I now,
face just what I'm made of.
There's so much more left to do,
but I'm not young,
but I'm not through.
Oh in the evening,
I stumble, my way towards, another
daily struggle, its dark out, its time now,
that I pick up my hustle.
Make a call, make some cash,
make your mark, make it last.
Tiny scores, tiny rooms.
Lofty goals met too soon,
too soon.
And here I stand a broken man,
if I could I would raise my hands.
I come before you humbly,
if I could I'd be on my knees.
Come and lay down your head upon my chest,
feel my heart beat, feel my unrest.
If Jesus could only wash my feet,
then I'd get up strong, and muscle on.
Oh in the morning,
I stumble my way towards the mirror
and my makeup, its light out, and I now,
face just what I'm made of.
There's so much more left to do,
well I'm not young, but I'm not through.
Tiny scores, tiny rooms,
lofty goals met too soon,
too soon.
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