Well, it's high on a mountain And the warm winds are blowing And where in the winds are blowing to Well, there ain't no way of knowing Mountain grass is short It's dry and close to burning Calling out for water As the season's turning
SWEET SMELL OF THE PINES TALL WESTERN CEDAR DRIFTING ON THE WIND THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS LIKE A RIVER
I've been too long away From these wild open skies On the concrete trails that wind Through the canyons dark and wide Sounds of people talkin' In words of blue and grey Smells of doors and windows Closed against the day
SWEET SMELL OF THE PINES...
Now that dust sets thick and heavy Where my feet are falling There's nothing but the sound Of the jaybird calling My mind grows dry and thirsty As the memories linger Drifting on the wind Through the mountains like a river