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You think i'm an ignorant savage |
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and you've been so many places |
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i guess it must be so |
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but still i cannot see |
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if the savage one is me |
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now can there be so much that you don't know? |
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you don't know ... |
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You think you own whatever land you land on |
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the earth is just a dead thing you can claim |
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but i know every rock and tree and creature |
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has a life, has a spirit, has a name |
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you think the only people who are people |
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are the people who look and think like you |
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but if you walk the footsteps of a stranger |
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you'll learn things you never knew you never knew |
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have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon |
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or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? |
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can you sing with all the voices of the mountains? |
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can you paint with all the colors of the wind? |
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can you paint with all the colors of the wind? |
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come run the hidden pine trails of the forest |
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come taste the sunsweet berries of the earth |
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come roll in all the riches all around you |
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and for once, never wonder what they're worth |
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the rainstorm and the river are my brothers |
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the heron and the otter are my friends |
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and we are all connected to each other |
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in a circle, in a hoop that never ends |
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how high will the sycamore grow? |
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if you cut it down, then you'll never know |
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and you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon |
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for whether we are white or copper skinned |
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we need to sing with all the voices of the mountains |
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we need to paint with all the colors of the wind |
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you can own the earth and still |
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all you'll own is earth until |
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you can paint with all the colors of the wind |
