The Winding Bricks of yellow and Gold
go up the mountains and down the Road
There are trees covered in Green
The wind blows west and takes the leaves
up the mountains and down the Road
on the Winding Bricks of yellow and Gold
The oats so high and rows and rows
The wind blows east and there I go
The horizons where the oats meet sky
My journey says a warm goodbye
Hello again I’ve met my light
at the corner we praise, Alleluia on high