Right outside this lazy summer home / you don’t have time to call your soul a critic, no / Right outside the lazy gate of winter’s summer home / wondering where the nuthatch winters, / 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 / There follows a wagon behind him / that’s loaded with clay / and seeds that were silent / all burst into bloom and decay / The night comes so quiet / and it’s 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 evening and songs of its own
Sometimes we live no / particular way but our own / 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
Robert Hunter – lyrics ; Jerry Garcia – music