Have you ever stood on the top of a mountain
High above the hollers of your home
All filled with the brash newness of the world
Have you stood there and looked with disdain?
As you stood there, has the mists parted
Like a window on a world no longer there?
Have you looked down,
Past Oz, past Brigadoon
And seen the way it was, the way it should be?
Have you seen thin trails of wood smoke
Rising lazy from dozens of cabins?
Did you glimpse tall lean men working in the fields
Women sittin' on porches, piecing quilts
Youngin's playin' at games lost to kids today?
As you watched, did you feel weary at this world?
Did you have an urge to walk away
Leave this time, this place
Step into the mists and wish,
Dream, Hope as you walk toward
What was, what should be?
Take my hand, hold it tight for a moment
Step through that mist with me,
Hold tight, dream with me,
Hope with me, believe
Cross your fingers and pray.
I'll wait for you there.
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