Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis the ancestors' breath
When the fire's voice is heard
Tis the ancestors breath
in the voice of the waters
Those who have died have never never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustlin trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth
Those who have died have never never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are in the woman's breast
They are in the wailing child
They are with us in the home
They are with us in the crowd
The dead have a pact with the living
