| 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 the 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'll 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 mountains | 
| Can you paint with all the colors of the wind | 
| Can you paint with all the colors of the wind | 
| Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest | 
| Come taste the sun sweet berries of the Earth | 
| Come 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 hoop that never ends | 
| How high will 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 | 
| For whether we are white or copper skinned | 
| We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains | 
| We need to paint with all the colors of the wind | 
| You can own the Earth and still | 
| All you'll own is Earth until | 
| You can paint with all the colors of the wind |