As I Wind Down The Pines

As I wind down the pines It?s the lines on your face Playing on your face Without thinking so much As abandoning thought I went through open country Over water, meadows, streams Lakes and wires and roosts in reeds To a nest in the hole of this dead tree To play without stopping or pause Not for silence, not for applause Not without thinking and thinking?s abandoning thought As I wind down the pines It?s the lines on your face Playing on your face