It’s high on a mountain the warm winds are blowing
And where the winds are blowing to, there ain’t no way of knowing
The mountain grass is short, it’s dry and close to burning
Crying out for water as the season’s turning
The sweet smell of the pines, the tall western cedar
Drifting on the wind through the mountains
Like a River
I’ve been too long away from this wild open sky
On the concrete trails that wind through the canyons dark and wide
With the sounds of people talking in words of blue and grey
Smells of doors and windows closed against the day
The sweet smell of the pines, the tall western cedar
Drifting on the wind through the mountains
Like a River
Now the dust lies thick and heavy where my feet are falling
There’s nothing but the sound of the jaybirds calling
My mind grows dry and thirsty as the memories linger
Drifting on the wind through the mountains
Like a River
The sweet smell of the pines, the tall western cedar
Drifting on the wind through the mountains
Like a River

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