|
You think I'm an ignorant savage |
|
You've been so many places, I guess it must be so |
|
Still I cannot see if the savage one is me |
|
How can there be so much that you don't know? |
|
You don't know |
|
|
|
You think you own whatever land you land on |
|
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim |
|
But I know every rock and tree and creature |
|
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name |
|
|
|
You think the only people who are people |
|
Are the people all who look and think like you |
|
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger |
|
You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew |
|
|
|
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon |
|
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? |
|
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains? |
|
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind? |
|
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind? |
|
|
|
Come, run the hidden pine trails of the forest |
|
And come, taste the sun, sweet berries of the earth |
|
Come, roll in all the riches all around you |
|
And for once, never wonder what they're worth, no |
|
|
|
The rainstorm and the river are my brothers |
|
The heron and the otter are my friends |
|
And we are all connected to each other |
|
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends |
|
|
|
How high does the sycamore grow? |
|
If you cut it down then you'll never know |
|
|
|
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon |
|
For whether we are white or copper skinned |
|
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains |
|
We need to paint with all the colors of the wind |
|
|
|
You can own the earth and still |
|
All you'll own is earth until |
|
You can paint with all the colors of the wind |