The hills are alive with the sound of music. With songs they have sang, for a thousand years. The hills fill my heart with the sound music. My heart wants to sing every song it hears. My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds that flies from the lake to the tree. My heart wants to sigh like the chime that flies, from the church on the trees. To laugh like a crook when he trips and falls and storms on its way. To sing through the night, like a? Who is learning to pray. I go to the hills, when my heart is lonely