The memories of a blank white room, with a window view 
and a nightly tune.
And I reveal the obvious concealed within a song.
Good morning, good morning my, good morning my God.
Lights down, my dear, this is not the end for you. 
(I know you'll make it through.)
I know how much it can hurt and I won't lie to you.
Then all the test results agreed without a shred of 
reasoning.
The bill of health is wiped all clean, the cause could 
not be found.
No diagnosis could explain, a faulty heart could not be 
blamed.
No chemical was found in me, the cure was in the sound.
Good morning, good morning my, good morning my God.
Lights down, my dear, this is not the end for you.
(I know you'll make it though.)
I know how much it can hurt and I won't lie to you.