I'm walking in desert time.
Through the sand, I walk a straight line
from the sun's first chink
to the lane of brick.
The line is fine.
I sing with the rhythm of tribes.
I sing to the changing skies
Through wind and rain,
I hold my aim.
No break-in stride.
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you walk the silver canyons?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you work this dime-store gold?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Will you walk this way tomorrow?
(Wako-Shaman...)
I pass through a barren land.
I sow seed from my hand.
And the forest tall
will break my fall
to the valley of the damned.
Our climb to the highest crest
may tear mother nature's breast.
Then the rain will fall
to drown us all,
the cursed and the blessed.
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you walk the silver canyons?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you work this dime-store gold?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Will you walk this way tomorrow?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Rain on my window.
Pages floating to the floor.
Captured for a moment.
Reaching out... reaching out in time.
A line is still unbroken.
Brother from the other side
meet where two worlds collide.
Touch where two worlds collide.
This song is a path I take.
Each line is a chain I make
so the land will be bound
in a circular sound
that no man break.
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you walk the silver canyons?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Can you work this dime-store gold?
(Wako-Shaman...)
Will you walk this way tomorrow?
(Wako-Shaman...)