Mists of Down Below

Wild wind, take me home
To the mists of down below
I’ll be flying come September day
With no borders in my way
You’ll find me home until the May sun burns
The heavy mists of down below
I see the rivers flooding strong
And people wishing they belonged
Free for anywhere they want to go
When they pray they can look to the sky
And they’d see me as I pass by
Heading to the mists of down below
Without fields ripe from rain
There is no way to feed my pain
Until I fly to mists of down below
But down below is not my fate
There is no land from where I came
Not even mists of old Mexico
So I looked hard at reasons for
The drifters going door to door
Dreaming of the mists of down below
But I’m sure they’d go anywhere they could
If wings became their neighborhoods
And there’d be nowhere they wouldn’t know