I can feel the wind its blowing down
Through my soul without making a sound
But my brother says it can’t be real cause he cant feel it to
I can feel the wind is blowing down
Oh sometimes I think we get carried away
Oh sometimes its about clever things to say
Oh but the truth is there’s such thing as blasphemy
When we make the wind the enemy
I can feel the wind course through these veins
Like blood but from a divine strain
But my brother mocks the spirit of the wind that blows my way
I can feel the wind course through these veins
Oh sometimes I think the world makes too much sense
Oh sometimes the humorists just need to vent
Oh but the truth is there’s such thing as reverence
When we make the wind a simple jest
I may not understand
The patterns of the wind
Or the forming in the womb
But it is the work of you
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