Indian Trees

It's living in trees they call knowledge, from the sky to the rain, from darkness to bright light they were born, at the end of the earth. Inside in their souls they hear voices. Blessed spirit they can feel. If you call today, they'll come tomorrow. They're the masters of the wind. From delight they come to existence, bring me back to the real here. Pull me away from flights of fancy, where I am still Indian trees, mystic silent. They'll come tomorrow, come tomorrow from the rain. The shadows are behind, land lies hiding shiny sparkles in his eyes, and a constant whispered song draws the skyline slowly bringing a trail of tears. From delight they come to existence, bring me back to the real here, pull me away from flights of fancy, where I am still Indian trees, mystic silent. They'll come tomorrow, come tomorrow from the rain.