I give this song to the open air:
A song no one will hear—
Won't even know it's there.
I will play through it once, and then I will go,
And you will not find me on the radio.
There is a timeless moon in the clouds of white,
There is a stirring wind on the fields at night—
And I would stand among these constant things,
If I could sing the song that the mountain sings.
But recognition fails—
Takes one to know.
And when have I had a face I could show?
Some time ago, there was a fire,
And every day was climbing higher,
But sinking now, it seems unreal—
The whole world can change with the way you feel.
Recognition fails—
Takes one to know.
And when have I had a face I could show?
So I'll give this song to the open air—
Or perhaps the song was always there,
And maybe it is I who will fade away—
There is so little time, and so much to say.
I will play through it once, and then I will go,
And you will not find me on the radio.
