Blue as the crying skies
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