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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 nuthatch winter's 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 And there follows his wagon behind him that's loaded with clay And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom and decay And night comes so quiet, its close on the heels of the day Sometimes we live no particular way but our own And 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