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.
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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