I am forgotten and alone, br with only my memorys for friends, br I hear the wind outside whistle and grone, br shall I go back and make amends? br The wind playes its lament on the trees, br the giant flutes towering above, br the creator of the sounds no persion sees, br it is the gloryfied spirit of love. br O what words can tell of the wonders of the musical wood? br the sound that makes me no more alone, br This is the place I have stood, br while listning to music form god's throne. br These sounds are the only friends I need, br to the heart of love this sound will lead.br br S.C.