We're ghosts of the future
Clothed in the dust of the past
We're ghosts of the future
Clothed in the dust of the past
Every tree we plant, every
song we sing
Every string we bow, every tone we ring
Every hole we dig, every seed we sow
Every stone we move
helps us grow.
Sometimes things seem hard,
sometimes no rain comes
Sometimes rain falls in big hard floods
Sometimes sun bakes ground as hard as clay
Sometimes what we do
just dies away
A past barely-known, though
we do our best
Ghosts smile all around us as we work
Ghosts smile around us as we toil
Planting trees that belong
in this soil
We are baked like pots, we
are washed like mud
Tough grass grows where the stretch-marks crack
Tough grass grows, skin turns to bark
Tall trees grow
from our work
Can we hold the ground, can
we keep the grip
Can our fingers dig where tendrils creep
Can our fingers dig, can our spirits reach
Till we build the place
we call peace
We are ghosts that walk in
a cloud of dust
We do what we can, we do what we must
What do we want to leave, what do we want to say
To those who come when our dust
is blown away
It may be one day a small
tune will run
Between the hills in the setting sun
From a pipe turned from wood that today we plant
And that tune will be
our monument
We are ghosts of the future
Clothed in the dust of the past
We are ghosts of the future
Clothed in the dust of the past.
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