My Spirit Rides the Wind
What is this thing before me,
I search so hard to find;
This feeling all consuming,
that never leaves my mind
Are there others out there like me,
that also have this feeling?
That I have been here before,
just starts my sences reeling.
I think many may have felt it,
some just call it De' Ja Vu;
I guess I just have taken it,
farther than most of you.
Most of you don't understand me,
some even call me crazy;
While creating things I think of,
you may even call me lazy.
Some feel at home in the mountains,
others by the shore;
My Spirit Rides the Wind,
on these Plains Forevermore.
There's a spot tween here and Santa Rosa,
many times I have passed
there;
Watched the soaring of an Eagle,
on the currents of the air;
I hear the thunder of the hoofbeats,
see the flashing of the lances;
I feel the pounding of the drums,
feel the chill of the dances.
Is it because I might have been there,
riding in a great surround;
Riding close to the cliff now,
as the Buffalo hit the ground.
Smell the smoke from the campfires,
am I home now at last?
Or am I just dreaming, of living in the past?
Four thousand pounds of steel now,
reacts to my fingers;
Yet the smell of smoke and horseflesh,
in my memory still lingers.
So you might call me crazy,
yet I know deep in my core;
My Spirit Rides the Wind,
on these Plains Forevermore!
by Jake
the Snake
I search so hard to find;
This feeling all consuming,
that never leaves my mind
Are there others out there like me,
that also have this feeling?
That I have been here before,
just starts my sences reeling.
I think many may have felt it,
some just call it De' Ja Vu;
I guess I just have taken it,
farther than most of you.
Most of you don't understand me,
some even call me crazy;
While creating things I think of,
you may even call me lazy.
Some feel at home in the mountains,
others by the shore;
My Spirit Rides the Wind,
on these Plains Forevermore.
There's a spot tween here and Santa Rosa,
many times I have passed
there;
Watched the soaring of an Eagle,
on the currents of the air;
I hear the thunder of the hoofbeats,
see the flashing of the lances;
I feel the pounding of the drums,
feel the chill of the dances.
Is it because I might have been there,
riding in a great surround;
Riding close to the cliff now,
as the Buffalo hit the ground.
Smell the smoke from the campfires,
am I home now at last?
Or am I just dreaming, of living in the past?
Four thousand pounds of steel now,
reacts to my fingers;
Yet the smell of smoke and horseflesh,
in my memory still lingers.
So you might call me crazy,
yet I know deep in my core;
My Spirit Rides the Wind,
on these Plains Forevermore!
by Jake
the Snake
