A windy path you've travelled, far away from home. Long open winds carry you making sure your never alone.
The trees shiver, the small whispers carried by the draft hug you tightly. The trees shiver, your cheek kissed by the rain ever so slightly.
The only thing you have is you, the path is rugged and the whistle of wind hits your ear.
The only thing you have is you, you wish to sing a song about your fears.
A gust carried your voice away down to the cliffs below and gone it was, silent you are, wishing you'd kept your voice within a jar.
The only thing you have is you, the path is rugged and the whistle of wind hits your ear.
The only thing you have is you, you wish to sing a song about your fears.
The wind once your friend became a foe, took your voice and carried it far down below. A song never to be heard again, carried away by the wind.
