by Peter John
I feel those drops begin to fall.
I watch them splatter on the wall.
Is there a way that I can call my home?
Can’t buy a car, can’t hitch a plane,
And waiting for a drenching rain,
I wonder if it’s worth the pain to roam.
Is it worth the pain to roam
Too far to call back home?
And the wind is a-risin’
And the clouds are a fallin’
And the sky is hangin’ low,
And if you ask me where I’m goin’,
I’ll say, “I don’t know.”
And if you ask me where I’m from,
I’ll say, “The place I’ve been.”
I’d like to move, but I don’t dare
Until that voice can tell me where,
Until that still, small, voice can tell me when.
I’ve played the games that rule the night.
The winning’s never worth the fight.
The fighting’s never worth the teeth I lose.
I’m living hard, and living fast,
I’m hoping that my life won’t last
If living’s never worth the life I choose.
Will the memories I choose
Be worth enough to lose?
And the wind is a-screamin’
And the clouds are a-crashin’,
And the sky’s about to fall,
And if you ask me what I want,
I’ll say, “I want it all!”
And if you ask me what I’ve lost,
I’ll say, “I’ve lost my place.”
I’d move ahead, except I fear
No still, small, voice will reach my ear.
I need a voice to coach me in this race.
The storm of life has worn me out.
It’s torn my mind and made me doubt
My purpose here, and in a life beyond.
The waves of time soon pass away.
Though some might capsize ships today,
They’re only troubled ripples on a pond.
Will the ripples on my pond
Lead to a life beyond?
And the wind-is-a howlin’
And the clouds are a-drainin’
And the sky is almost down,
And if you ask me what life is,
I’ll say, “A beggar’s town.”
And if you ask me what death brings,
I’ll say, “You let me know.”
‘Cause when I get there, I’m afraid
That facin’ each mistake I made,
A still, small, voice will say, “I told you so.”
I’d like to move, but I don’t dare,
Until that voice can tell me where.
Without a still, small, voice I just won’t go.
Hear Peter John perform “The Wind is A-Risin'”for a live audience
Lyrics copyright 1979,1988 by Peter John Stone. All rights reserved. No use is authorized without permission from author, but the author offers reasonable terms, and entertains any proposals.—