The birds are chirping, the sun is bright
My curtains glow as they dim the light
A dizzy orange, a cool morning breeze
The sounds of traffic, and swaying trees
The flowers in my vase, they magnificently bloom
And the fragrance from used candles, lingers in the room
A cup of steaming tea, and freshly buttered bread
Nothing can be as delightful, as breakfast in bed
Marley's tunes play, and I sing "three little birds"
It's such a nice song, with such cheery words
I look at the clear blue sky, and now I'm yawning
Groggy though it is, I love Sunday morning
