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 learn things you never knew you never knew,
(chorous)
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 colours of the wind?
come run the hidden pine trails of the forest,
come tasted 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
(chorous)
how high will the sycamore grow?
if you cut it down then 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 mountains,
we need to paint with all the colours of the wind
we need to paint with all the colours of the wind
we need to paint with all the colours of the wind