Colors of the Wind

You think I'm an ignorant savage

And you've been so many places;

I guess it must be so

But 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 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?

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 we are all connected to each other

In a circle, in a hoop that never ends

How high does a 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 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