Follow the water to the sky,
from and back the oceans blue,
that's the way that I should die;
all that meanders I know so true.
All too true, and yet I know,
when the rain falls, I do not die;
things that rise are from down below
finding a way up to the sky.
It runs a course and finds its level,
from high to low, then low to high;
see, I pass through sand and gravel
and follow the water to the sky.