Memory of the Wind - NAUL

Life is like a tall ship Drifting gently from the shore Time is like a fair wind With a lifetime to explore The beauty that surrounds you Was meant to be adored The problems that surround you Were meant to be ignored We are love, we are, we are love We are love, we are, we are love I dreamt I held a baby I dreamt I held a child I dreamt I held a young man A prisoner in my hand My hand I could not open The man grew up inside A prisoner without reason Just on the other side We are love, we are, we are love We are love, we are, we are love The blood red rose of summer Grows elegant and tall In memory of the green grass Beyond the guardian wall The green grass grows forever Beneath the bloody sky In memory of the martyrs She'll cover when they die We are love, we are, we are love We are love, we are, we are love

From Pocahontas 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 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 Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth Come roll in all the riches all around you And for once, never wonder what they're worth 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 Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon Or have the Eagle tell where he's been? Can you sing with all the voices of the moutnain Can you paint with all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wind How high will 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