blue rose

blue as the crying sky, with no thorn, and no thistle, only an open face, staring at the waking world, maybe she's just a morning glory, lost in a tangle of vine, and maybe she's just a morning glory, lost in a tangle of vine, her arms stretch wide, to receive life, 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 vine, and maybe she's just a morning glory, lost in a tangle of vine, she blooms while the people sleep, only the travelers see her, to those who rise with the noon day sun, she is a closed mystery, and maybe she's just a morning glory, lost in a tangle of vine, oh, maybe she's just a morning glory, lost in a tangle of vine, lost in a tangle of vine, lost in a tangle of vine