What is this burning, flowing life?
whirlpool of thought,
school of dance, and laughter.
We float, fly:
see the stars, the sky.
The tribal patterns mark our skin,
for this is the community
where we all begin.

and time cannot touch us
when we sing

Where are the dales of old?
Valleys of icy warmth.
Small cottage, kitchen fire,
We walk, we play
in the snowy night and day,
the drums inside our souls..
each human being
in one blessed whole.

and time cannot touch us
when we sing

and so the dance begins
wild leaping, arms open
we are tribe, we are one,
we breathe, we god are.
visions to blind the blind
planes to bind the bound

but time cannot touch us
when we sing