Good Morning, Dear

Were the nights any sweeter
The mornings any cooler, when she was here?
Or was the mind grown accustomed to hearing «Good morning Dear»?
Should I still feel all the sunshine
That remembering brings to mind with my thoughts of her?
Lord, we both know things could never be the way they were
Her little girl illusions
built the wall of confusion between right and wrong
That stands between her and the dream I had cherished so long
Now faded and tattered, once all that mattered when she was here
And a mind grown accustomed to hearing «Good morning dear»
Were the nights any sweeter
The mornings any cooler, when she was here?
Or was the mind grown accustomed to hearing «Good morning Dear»?