Little Wind

I might go to Spain

Sleep out with the dogs

Find some empty castle

Put my jacket on a cross

The mice are in the fields

And the ghosts are in the towers

Little wind I’m with you in the roadside flowers

I might go to town

And drink myself away

Find some singing bird

And try to step inside her cage

I might go to waste

And I might be a coward

Little wind I’m with you in the roadside flowers

I wish that I had stayed

In that river house with you

Pulled away the weeds

And let the wild roses bloom

But all the hanging plums

Someday will go sour

Little wind I’m with you in the roadside flowers

Don’t you want to fly with the highland birds

Don’t you want to dance in the Catalan dirt

Maybe it’s my fault

Or maybe it’s my power

Little wind I’m with you in the roadside flowers