Thunder Rolling Down The Mount, they hear your voice but it don't count. It sounds a pitch they will amount to, nothing more than wishes made by savage men stuck in the fade, so easily abused in trade. They talk so convincingly, but good words only last when they're spoken honestly. Let that trusting feeling go. Wallowa has let you grow, to nothing else your faith bestow. It's what they call God-given right. Your skin is red and theirs is white. What they can't buy they'll take with might.