In the hills of Crystal haven.
In the hills of crystal Haven
Roams a lady of real beauty
Who wanders with the wolves In liberty.
She has left the town of Brookville
To seek what Can't be found
Now she likes to hear the wind among the trees,
She had met this wise old hermit
Poorly washed and all bedraggled
And he had told her what could not be known
As she listened like still waters
In that space that feels like velvet
And now that mystic lady she must roam.
So she wanders all the hillsides
As she listens to the silence
And she talks to her good friends the forest folk.
While meanwhile all the townsfolk
They just laugh and call her crazy
As they point at her, and treat her as a joke.
For none have heard that whisper
That murmurs silence softly
As it comes from somewhere deep within ones soul
Drawing forth the butterfly
That flies one to the mystic
And with a soothing flutter makes one whole.
Dec 9 2003