Lyrics:

As I wind down the pines its the lines on your face playing on your face Without thinking so much as abandoning thought I went through open country over water meadows streams lakes and wires and roosts in reeds to a nest in the hole of this dead tree. To play without stopping or pause not for silence not for applause not without thinking and thinkings abandoning thought As I wind down the pines its the lines on your face playing on your face