“Right outside this lazy summer home

You 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

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

There comes a rеdeemer, and he slowly too fades away

That follows a wagon bеhind him that's loaded with clay

The seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay

And the night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day

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

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 you hear are just songs of our own

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”