i will go 'til the hills hold no sound

scatter through the grass ‘til the winds run through ‘ery blowing leaf and brittle stalks lift up their heads.

i will go ‘til the hills hold no sound and every mutter sends a ripple through, trees and rocks and lakes bow down to the verily unspoken rule; all will mutter prayers like mine that scatter through the grass ‘til the winds run through ‘ery blowing leaf and brittle stalks lift up their heads.