When Morning Comes

Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Morning's coming.
I wrestled with the ceiling, I shouted through the night,
"Why take the one thing that makes this house feel bright?" Then she squeezed my fingers,
And I heard it in my soul, somewhere past the hurting,
"You are making us whole." Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Morning's coming.
Hold on.
Hold on.