Across the open fields
I hear the cry of a wolf as she sings to the sky
Lonely one, with her I will try, to harmonize
Find the words, write a song that hasn't yet been heard
When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves
Cold, wet ground hold my feet
As I run toward her sound
All that comes to mind are Ovid's words, from an ancient time
Oh 'breathe your breath into mine'
When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves
When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves