Talking To The Wind

On a trading path, through the Carolinas
 Used by Indians who braved the wind and rain
 They settled down beside the raging waters
 And they worked the land until the white men came
 And formed the counties
 And they took away their land
 And made the boundaries
 Governed with a heavy hand
 And you can almost hear the song
 Of that old Indian longing for his home
 Along the waters edge
 Climbing mountains to escape
 The laws of white men
 Walking softly in the rain and talking to the wind
 They were friendly and they rode on painted horses
 Fearing no one, not harming anything
 They were trusting when the pilgrims came to live here
 And then they died by the hands of the men
 Who formed the counties
 And they took away their land
 And made the boundaries
 Governed with a heavy hand
 And you can almost hear that sad song
 Of that old Indian crying for his home
 Along the waters edge
 Climbing mountains to escape
 The laws of white men
 Walking softly in the rain and talking to the wind
 They were trusting when they taught us how to live here
 And then they scattered to the wind, leaving only tears behind them
 And an old forgotten art
 And all their memories, dying with a broken heart
 And you almost hear the song
 Of that old Indian longing for his home
 Along that waters edge
 Climbing mountains to escape
 The laws of white men
 Walking softly in the rain, talking to the wind