Right outside this
lazy summer home
You ain't got time to call your soul a critic, no
Right outside the lazy gate
Of winter's summer home
Wondering where the
nuthatch winter's
Wings a mile long
Just carried the bird away
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
But the heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
There comes a redeemer and he slowly, too, fades away
And there follows his wagon behind him that's loaded with
clay
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom and decay
And night comes so quiet, its
close on the heels of the day
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
But the heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home
Sometimes we ride on your horses,
sometimes we walk alone
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
But the heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
The Grateful Dead
Wake Of The Flood
Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Jerry Garcia
Reprinted with permissions: copyright Ice Nine Publishing - see Grateful Dead Lyrics