Intro: It's high on a mountain the warm winds are blowing And where the winds are blowing to, there ain't no way of knowing The mountain grass is short, it's dry and close to burning Crying out for water as the season's turning The sweet smell of the pines__, the tall western cedar Drifting on the wind, through the mountains like a river I've been too long away from this wild open sky On the concrete trails that wind through the canyons dark and wide The sounds of people talking in words of blue and grey And smells of doors and windows closed against the day The sweet smell of the pines__, the tall western cedar Drifting on the wind, through the mountains like a river Instrumental:
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