She could feel the frozen slaps of the raging wind wiffing through her hair,

Driving 90 on the interstate not going anywhere, she won't be late, despite her fate.

Meandering through sullen, dusty backroads, where the corn ceases to grow,

It's liberating, yet confining, after the words she had heard, all she craves is hope.

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could see the crying in your eyes,

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could feel the hurt in your disguise,

Good morning paradise.

Her mind, cloudy and hazy, she lifts the 32oz. bottle to her mouth, resting it on her lips,

As her hopes and dreams drown in her sorrows, believing there's a second chance,

underneath her tears, lies the thrashing memory, believing alcohol is her salvation.

All that is good, is lost, dizzy and hollow, she falls to the ground.

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could see the crying in your eyes,

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could feel the hurt in your disguise, 

Good morning, paradise.

The only thing that seems to save her soul, are the rays of the sun caressing her window,

Unlike any wonder, she picks herself up, inhaling the the rise, and much to her demise,

Releases the metal brake, she speeds up, the tires seem to glide on the tar road and painted lanes,

her car remains slain, her heart in two, she can sense the light, its all over, for the pain.

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could see the crying in your eyes,

Good morning paradise, (paradise),

I could feel the hurt in your disguise,

Good morning paradise!