
Eyes of the World (Live at Giants Stadium, East Rutherford, NJ, June 17, 1991) The Grateful Dead
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[Instrumental]
[Verse 1]
Right outside this lazy summer home
Ain't got time to call your soul a critic, no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter's summer home
Wondering where the nut-thatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away
[Chorus]
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
The heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
[Instrumental Break]
[Verse 2]
There comes a rеdeemer, and he slowly too fades away
And follows a wagon bеside him that's loaded with clay
The seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay
And night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day
[Chorus]
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
The heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
[Verse 1]
Right outside this lazy summer home
Ain't got time to call your soul a critic, no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter's summer home
Wondering where the nut-thatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away
[Chorus]
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
The heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
[Instrumental Break]
[Verse 2]
There comes a rеdeemer, and he slowly too fades away
And follows a wagon bеside him that's loaded with clay
The seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay
And night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day
[Chorus]
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
The heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
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