I Am Free

 

A rusted old truck lies buried in weeds and snow.

A trainís crossing the trestle; hear the whistle blow.

Life goes on Ďneath the ice in the river below.
A yellow light from a cabin gives off a warming glow.

A gray and white quilt covers a cold and hazy sun.

In the meadow snow flies as wild palominos run.

As I carry firewood cold air fills my lungs.

Itís good kind of tired when work and day is done.

In these mountains, I am free.
They are like family.
This is where Iím close to God,
And the angels sing to me.
This is where I belong.
I am free. I am free.
 

Gusty winds sweep powder off the peaks and pines.
Cows are crossing a meadow in a single line.
Friends around the fire, a glass of wine,
A roaring fire and candleís glow bring peace of mind.

Up here everydayís a miracle for those with eyes to see.

Yes, everyday is another miracle for those who can believe.

The afternoon sun casts its shadows.

Itís thirty degrees.

 

Frost covers the branches of the spruce and aspen trees.

Snow begins to fall, icicles form on the eves.

Staring into the fire my heart drifts off to dream.

Lying here by the fire and you are here with me.

 

In These mountains, I am free.
They are like family.
This is where Iím close to God,
And the angels sing to me.
This is where I belong.
I am free. I am free.

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