| You think I'm an ignorant savage
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| And you've been so many places
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| I guess it must be so
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| But still I cannot see
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| If the savage one is me
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| How can there be so much that you don't know
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| You don't know
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| You think you own whatever land you land on
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| The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim
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| But I know every rock and tree and creature
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| Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
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| You think the only people who are people
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| Are the people who look and think like you
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| But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
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| You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew
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| Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
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| Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned
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| Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains
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| Can you paint with all the colors of the wind
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| Can you paint with all the colors of the wind
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| Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
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| Come taste the sun sweet berries of the Earth
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| Come roll in all the riches all around you
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| And for once, never wonder what they're worth
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| The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
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| The heron and the otter are my friends
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| And we are all connected to each other
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| In a circle, in a hoop that never ends
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| How high will the sycamore grow
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| If you cut it down, then you'll never know
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| And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
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| For whether we are white or copper skinned
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| We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
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| We need to paint with all the colors of the wind
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| You can own the Earth and still
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| All you'll own is Earth until
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| You can paint with all the colors of the wind |