You think I'm an ignorant savage
and you've been so many places,
I guess it must be so, but still I cannot see
If a savage one is me
How can there be so much that you don't know
you don't know

You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree, and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name

You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you,
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger,
You learn things you never knew, you never knew

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
 [bad word] the hidden pine trails of the [bad word] taste the sun-sweet berries of the [bad word] roll in all the riches, all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth

The rainstorm and the river are my brothers,
The heron and the otter are my friends,
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a loop that never ends

How high does the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know

And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
Need to paint with all the colours of the wind
You can own the Earth and still
All you'll own is earth until
You can paint with all the colours of the wind