Waves of violet go crashing and laughing
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The rainbow winged singing birds fly 'round the sun
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Sun bells rain down in a liquid profusion
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Mermaids on porpoises draw up the dawn
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What's become of the baby this cold December morning?
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Songbirds frozen in their flight
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Drifting to the earth, remnants of forgotten dreaming
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Dawning answer comes there none.
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Go to sleep you child, dream of never-ending always
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Panes of crystal ice sparkle like waterfalls
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Lighting the polished ice caverns of the dawn,
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But where in the looking-glass fields of illusion
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Wandered the child who was perfect as the dawn?
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What's become of the baby this cold December morning?
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What's become of the baby this cold December morning?
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Racing in rhythm of the sun
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All the world revolves captured in the eye of woman
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Allah, where are you now?
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All eyes are blinded by the sparkling waters
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Scheherazade gethering stories to tell
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But where is the child who played with the sunshines?
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And chased the cloud shape to the regions of mind?
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Standing stream cries the south wind
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Lost in the regions of
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Shadow-like chains of illusion, delusions of living and dead.
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-----------------
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What's Become Of The Baby
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| Grateful Dead |
