Lyrics

Facing towards the water.
The southwind's blowing in.
The pines march by the order.
Down towards the water's edge.

You breath the sound of nature.
The southwind conducts this
Northern song.
I am a child again, and the
Beat of the north woods and
Just these friends of mine.

Can you feel it.

The aged trees tower over
Saplings growing under.
Their roots defy the order.
Of slopes casting them to water's edge.

Chorus