My heart longs for open spaces,

No man’s lands - you cannot hear.

And they are coming in the winter

They fall silent on your ear.

The peace of a land forsaken

Because nobody can hold it.

Do you hear the land a coming,

In the empty, longing, open.

It is coming, It's a coming,

Though it pass through all you fear.

It's the open sacred spaces

That nobody can hear.

But I hear the open places

Falling softly on my ear.

I find the open places

In everything you fear.