Up the mountains the wind blows wide.
It runs cool and the sky is its bride.
Like a dream woman it wraps arms around you and takes you for a ride.
The boarder to Heaven is where the clouds meet the bright moon.
A boarder descendants of Adam are forced to cross to soon.
Pretty is the flower before it withers in full bloom.

Night brings chill which puts dew on the grass.
Grass that will expire as winter comes to pass.
But humanity will inherit forever the ground,
Green Earth, through the sweat and red of eve to humanity it is bound.