Blue as the crying skies
With no thorn and no thistle
Only an open face
Staring at the waking world
With no thorn and no thistle
Only an open face
Staring at the waking world
And maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
Maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
Her arms stretch wide
To receive the light
And her roots go deep into the black earth
For strength and she blooms
And maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
And maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
She blooms while the people sleep
Only the travelers see her
To those who rise with the noonday sun
She is a closed mystery
And maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
And maybe she's just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vines
Lost in a tangle of vines
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