Wild winds stir the prairie
And the grass bends as if it morns the sun, the past, the love gone by
And the little grains of sand dance, raising up into the sky, heading like the angels to the clouds
The wind is a roar from the solitude and stillness of the ground like the sea that speaks for the drowned ones

Wild winds make the rain hurry in its attempt to throw with tears on aloof glories
Grey and green are the colors of indecisive stories
And the mind just like the wind cannot sit put to grasp an answer and find its peace
A piano sings in black as a shaman to the birds and a vision becomes a clear path
Sins and madness whisper and beg for a change
Drums and mandolins speak in blue lines and cling to feelings that are benumbed
Then the prairie turns into a massacre of the heart

Wild winds transform into soothing spikes
And their whistling seems the only thing that’s left alive
But then a hand caresses the wind till the morning comes to mend and heal –
So we become the wild winds.