Colors of the Wind


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 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 mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
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.

The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And re 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, you will 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 mountain
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.
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