[00:00.00] 作词 : Matthew Lien
[00:01.00] 作曲 : Matthew Lien
[00:05.00]
[00:33.50]Held within a sacred place
[00:37.99]Antiquity in shades of grace
[00:42.40]The lines you carve upon the ground
[00:46.39]Are lines within the Elder's face
[00:49.98]
[00:50.92]Something is becoming clear
[00:55.17]Everything is ancient here
[00:59.31]The rivers flowing 'cross the plains
[01:03.36]The hills that over look the same
[01:06.89]
[01:07.33]And you are the wind that blows throughout
[01:11.76]You are so hard to sing about
[01:15.90]You are the blood within my veins
[01:20.19]A mirror to the past remains
[01:32.17]
[01:43.92]Turning back the page of time
[01:47.37]The hour-glass of arctic sands
[01:51.75]Reveals a former common ground
[01:55.75]The Great Plains of the southern lands
[01:59.93]
[02:00.25]Dark upon the golden plain
[02:04.39]Shadows still recount the view
[02:08.59]The nation of the buffalo
[02:12.61]The nation of the caribou
[02:16.99]
[03:12.13]The tribes across the southern plains
[03:15.78]With weathered eyes and standing tall
[03:20.28]Have heard the cries and felt the pain
[03:24.18]To see the mighty nations fall
[03:27.87]
[03:28.70]Now blowing through the empty hall
[03:32.67]The leaves of summer turned to fall
[03:37.03]With Sandhill Cranes a last recall
[03:41.03]To wild things that shared it all
[03:44.92]
[03:45.53]And you are the wind that blows without
[03:49.31]You are so hard to sing about
[03:53.31]You are the blood within my veins
[03:57.95]A mirror to the past remains

作词 : Matthew Lien
作曲 : Matthew Lien
Held within a sacred place
Antiquity in shades of grace
The lines you carve upon the ground
Are lines within the Elder's face
Something is becoming clear
Everything is ancient here
The rivers flowing 'cross the plains
The hills that over look the same
And you are the wind that blows throughout
You are so hard to sing about
You are the blood within my veins
A mirror to the past remains
Turning back the page of time
The hour-glass of arctic sands
Reveals a former common ground
The Great Plains of the southern lands
Dark upon the golden plain
Shadows still recount the view
The nation of the buffalo
The nation of the caribou
The tribes across the southern plains
With weathered eyes and standing tall
Have heard the cries and felt the pain
To see the mighty nations fall
Now blowing through the empty hall
The leaves of summer turned to fall
With Sandhill Cranes a last recall
To wild things that shared it all
And you are the wind that blows without
You are so hard to sing about
You are the blood within my veins
A mirror to the past remains