Lyrics:
Written by: neil diamondMorningsideThe old man diedAnd no one criedThey simply turned awayAnd when he diedHe left a table made of nails and prideAnd with his hands he carved these words inside'for my children'Morning lightMorning brightI spent the nightWith dreams that make you weepMorning timeWash away the sadness from these eyes of mineFor I recall the words the old man signed'for my children'And the legs were shaped with his handsAnd the top made of oaken woodAnd the children sat around this tableTouched with their laughterAh, and that was goodMorningsideAn old man diedAnd no one criedHe surely died aloneAnd truth is sadFor not a child would claim the gift he hadThe words he carved became his epitath'for my children'