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