If toi cut it down, then you'll never know. And you'll never hear the loup cry to the blue blé, maïs moon. For whether we are white ou copper skinned, We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain. We need to paint with all the couleurs of the wind. toi can own the earth, and still, all you'll own is earth until toi can paint with all the couleurs of..... The wind.
I did this song for solo ensamble. I have it memorized.
