Where The Wind Blows I know a place where the wind is free Where the grass seed is allowed to roam over great stretches of verdant earth in an endless dance of swinging leaves and twisting branches To flick weeds off of roofs and whip them into storm clouds and guide them towards possibilities with the ease and care of a sleepy child aimlessly chewing on candy Strange how the human mind seems so concerned with the purpose of wandering that it forgets itself under fluorescent lights in glass boxes defined by square rooms and right angles while the rest of the world roams aimlessly outside their windows Mother I say I think I would like to go where the wind blows curling the cord around my finger as I ponder over topographical lines tracing the curves of hills and the flatness of plains Father I think I will follow the storm I say 'll follow the current of the river downstream To the pot To the bottle To the desert To the valley of gold To the Valley of the Dolls To the dunes rising above Nevada reflecting a fairy tale dream