I am the one that gives wind its voice.
Each song, each shriek, each sound it makes.
I weave among the trees and stone, a whine, a hum, to each belong
a mark in nature welly done.
Branches moan, the grass, it whistles,
each one a voice its very own.
Each song, each shriek, each sound it makes.
I weave among the trees and stone, a whine, a hum, to each belong
a mark in nature welly done.
Branches moan, the grass, it whistles,
each one a voice its very own.
