This time next year, when the hills are hidden by a sigh
On my back, I will wear whatever comes my way
Even as the wind no longer asks me why
My heart, will still not
Be lead astray

When the whole world seems scattered round my feet
My heart will still carry for many miles
This rhythm, which is my own beat
And those hills, I will climb
As I smile

I will surely taste delight in each new sight I see
Then return to wear once more
Everything upon my back that comes at me
Never asking why
Or, what for