Across the open fields I hear the cry of a wolf as she sings to the sky Lonely one, with her I will try, to harmonize Find the words, write a song that hasn't yet been heard When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves Cold, wet ground hold my feet As I run toward her sound All that comes to mind are Ovid's words, from an ancient time Oh 'breathe your breath into mine' When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves When I die, turn me to a tree, so the birds will sing in my leaves