Оригинален текст
Blue as the crying sky
with no thorn, no thistle
only an open face
staring at the waking world
Maybe she's just a morning glory
lost in a tangle of vine
maybe she's just a morning glory
lost in a tangle of vine
Her arms stretch wide
to recieve life
and her roots go deep into the black earth
wild strength and she blooms
Maybe she's just a morning glory
lost in a tangle of vine
maybe she's just a monring glory
lost in a tangle a vine
She blooms while the people sleep
only the travelers see her
to those who rise with the noonday sun
she is a closed mystery