Lizz Wright

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
Maybe she?s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Her arms stretch wide
To receive a life
And her ROOTS go deep into the BLACK EARTH for strength
And she blooms and
Maybe she?s just a morning glory