I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low   The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before   My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves   Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds      Wind blows the tiny green, tiny green   Wind blows the tiny green, helicopter seeds   Wind blows the tiny green, tiny green   Wind blows the tiny green, helicopter seeds      Oh, wandering in days unfolding   With hats fashioned of mud and snake skin   Oh, wandering in days unfolding   With hats fashioned of mud and snake skin   Of mud and snake skin      As I think about the ladies who weren't allowed to sing   Sewing all their pretty rows of thread instead of singing   And what about the black braided sisters of Mariee?   We sat upon their grinding rock as children used to be      Beneath the knotted pine, knotted pine   Beneath the knotted pine at the garden's edge   Beneath the knotted pine, knotted pine   Beneath the knotted pine at the garden's edge      Oh, laughing, little girls clapping   Ghosts weaving our hair to baskets   Oh, laughing, little girls clapping   And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets   Our hair to baskets      I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low   The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before   My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves   Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds   Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds