Det eneste hun nskede sig. Var en solskindsdag, Skyfri himmel. En problemfri time i, gode venners lag. dru men svimmel. Svimmel af glde s glad for lidt fred.
I was born in the path of the winter wind. I was raised where the mountains are old. Their springtime waters came dancing down. And I remember the tales they told.
Child of mine, you are the wildest wind. And the dearest dream I will ever know. Love's lasting light shines out from deep within. This father's heart as I watch you grow.
All God's critters got a place in the choir. Some sing low, some sing higher. Some sing out loud on the telephone wires. And some just clap their hands, or paws, or anything they got now.
In the Beartooth Mountains where the twin peaks touch the sky. There's a homemade cabin out of sight from tourists' eyes. And inside lightin' up a fire to fight the cold.
like two dogs on an open road. like two flowers on an old gravestone. like two leaves tumblin' in the wind. im searchin for a beginning that has no end.
Just an old house with stories of its own. Takes me back to days gone by. The colors have faded and the steps are made of stone. An aging friend against the sky.
Far across the Mississippi and out on the open plains. In an Oklahoma cow town where the sky begins to rain. In a dusty run-down honky tonk sits a drifting tumbleweed.
I dreamed I saw a crazy horse. Riding through the badlands. He was wild and brave and free. I swear, I heard the cries of the innocent victims. In the wind with wounded knee.
You speak to me through a broken window. You are alive in an old oak tree. You hold me close when the winter wind blows. I hear your footsteps on the street.