作词：Matthew Lien
作曲：Matthew Lien
Held within a sacred place
Antiquity in shades of grace
The lines you carve upon the ground
Are lines within the Elder's face
Something is becoming clear
Everything is ancient here
The rivers flowing 'cross the plains
The hills that over look the same
And you are the wind that blows throughout
You are so hard to sing about
You are the blood within my veins
A mirror to the past remains
Turning back the page of time
The hour-gla*s of arctic sands
Reveals a former common ground
The Great Plains of the southern lands
Dark upon the golden plain
Shadows still recount the view
The nation of the buffalo
The nation of the caribou
The tribes across the southern plains
With weathered eyes and standing tall
Have heard the cries and felt the pain
To see the mighty nations fall
Now blowing through the empty hall
The leaves of summer turned to fall
With Sandhill Cranes a last recall
To wild things that shared it all
And you are the wind that blows without
You are so hard to sing about
You are the blood within my veins
A mirror to the past remains