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How many years can a mountain exist,
before it is washed to the sea?
How many years can some people exist,
before they’re allowed to be free?
And how many times can a man turn his head,
and pretend that he just doesn’t see?
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they’re worth
The answer, my friend,
is blowing in the wind,
the answer is blowing in the wind.
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