What's Become Of the Baby - Grateful Dead

Waves of violet go crashing and laughing

The rainbow-winged singing birds fly 'round the sun

Sun bells rain down in a liquid profusion

Mermaids on porpoises draw up the dawn

What’s become of the baby

This cold December morning?

Songbirds

Frozen in their flight

Drifting to the earth

Remnants of forgotten dreaming

(calling…)

Answer comes there none

Go to sleep you child

Dream of never-ending always

Panes of crystal

Eyes sparkle like waterfalls

Lighting the polished ice caverns of Khan

But where in the looking-glass fields of illusion

Wandered the child who was perfect as dawn?

What’s become of the baby

This cold December morning?

Racing

Rhythms of the sun

All the world revolves

Captured in the eye of Odin

Allah

Pray, where are you now?

All Mohammed’s men

Blinded by the sparkling water

Scheherazade gethering stories to tell

From primal gold fantasy petals that fall

But where is the child

Who played with the sun chimes

And chased the cloud sheep

To the regions of rhyme?

Stranded

Cries the south wind

Lost in the regions of lead

Shackled by chains of illusion

Delusions of living and dead