Across Tundras Rainmaker-floodreaper
Tumbleweed tumbles with no home. Ten years as the stone does roll. Bone dry or dead soaked, it's a long and lonely road. Can't lay my old roots down in the cold and barren ground. Then the wind blew so hard one nite, over a great river to where the hills roll high. Tumbleweed veins grew green overnite.
