Why, when the morning's breaking,
and the dew is sparkling
and the robin's calling
do the words no longer exist?
And if the music's hurting,
and the color's swirling,
and the heart is beating,
there is nothing left to say?

And when the storm is crashing,
and the lightning's flashing,
and the rain is splashing,
the words get stuck?

And while the feet are moving,
and the body's numbing,
and the breath is missing,
the thoughts are as well?

And while the friend is speaking,
and the smile's listening,
and the night is passing,
the time has run away?