as i went out in the open i left for awhile a tired stranger looking to be found and so i stood there in silence for someone to hear me for someone to make the first sound someone to care for someone to carry me home i headed west to touch the ground but the spirits didn t make a sound as i stared in the face of native america and so my pilgrimage progress takes me over the land just so that i can keep up with the rush and from the east to the west i can feel my heart beating to touch anything left untouched someone to care for someone to carry me home i headed west to touch the ground but the spirits didn t make a sound as i stared in the face of native america and so i leave to forget to rebuild the patriot with anything that i can find am i a visitor always always a stranger never knowing what i ve left behind someone to care for someone to carry me home i headed west to touch the ground but the spirits didn t make a sound as i stared in the face of native america out in the open wherever i look and upon everything that i see is an unwritten page to an unfinished book of an ongoing history and as i stopped to really look around as the sun s going up and down it changes the face of native america and a river it runs right through n red white black and blue straight down the face of native america i headed west to touch the ground but the spirits didn t make a sound as i stared in the face of native america