The Last Sunrise

Sun is on the rise, and the sleep is in my eyes,
Wrapped me in the morning haze, rose to meet the day.

Left my love to her dreams, crept from that mortal scene,
Dressed me up in my Sunday best, to lay me down to rest.

Man's a coming,
He's been keeping score,
Now he's collecting,
And he's rat-tat-tatting on my door.

Lived my days by the sword, never broke my word,
Not one to pushed aside, though many men they tried.

Man's a coming,He's been keeping score,
Now he's collecting,And he's a standing at my door.

Middle Eight

Many may lay claim, the right to snuff my flame,
But they're racking up their scores,
for when the man comes to their door.

Stepped out into the sun, to face the men I wronged,
And as I let my burdens slide, tell my kin they're not to cry.

Man's a coming,
He's been keeping score,
He came a collecting,
And he took me, took me from my door.



Credits
Writer(s): Mark Tudor Wrangham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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