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