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WINDHORSE Paul Weinfield When your soul slips through a doorway and goes wandering in your mind, when you're frightened by the world that you've created without trying, all you have to do is think of me and you'll never be alone. I'll come riding on a windhorse, ready to take you home. Riding on a windhorse, I'm coming to take you home. I know it's me you're running from: a dream is an escape. But I know it's me you're looking for in a different kind of shape. So I hover like a gentle breeze and follow you where you roam. Riding on a windhorse, I'm coming to take you home. Riding on a windhorse, I'm coming to take you home. There's no distance that you and I can't fly through the air. And no resistance: because if you want to be home, then we're already there. But I see the price of patience and it makes me feel afraid. If I stay too long inside your dream will I start to fade? Till I'm nothing -- yes, I'm nothing but the echo of a moan as I ride upon a windhorse, still waiting to take you home. Riding on a windhorse, waiting to take you home (etc.) Words and music copyright of Tam Lin/Paul Weinfield (BMI, 2010)