A lost man wanders in the fields.
Tonight, he sleeps beneath a tree.
Far from the sea,
the place from whence he came;
he whistles to the wind for it to yield.

A lone woman waits up in the hills.
She ties a sling about her arm.
Shunned from the farm,
the home that made her lame;
she whistles in the wind for it to heal.

She whistles to the winds for it to heal...

A train derails along the plains.
Its wheels are broken beyond repair.
The headlamp's lonesome stare
turns to smoke from flame;
it whistles in the wind for hope again.

It whistles in the wind for hope again...

A child sits down upon the floor.
He waits for the evening's rationed stew.
A rough storm now brews
above the breaking frame...
he whistles to the wind through the cracked door.

He whistles to the wind through the cracked door.