High in the Sierra’s where the winds blow free,
When this flesh drops away that’s where I’ll be.
Keep your harp and keep your cloud.
Keep your glum, self-righteous crowd.
I’ll have no use for either there,
When my spirit’s free to take the air.
I say this not to cause you grief.
Don’t worry yourself with my belief.
Don’t shake your fist or wring your hands.
It’s sufficient that God understands.
Don’t stew and fret for the path I’ve trod.
What I believe is between me and God.
High above bright granite peeks,
That’s the heaven my spirit seeks.
Lazy sweeps on the gentle breeze,
At one with stars and streams and trees,
At one with The Lord who created it all,
Keep your heaven, its way too small.
I’ll have no use for flesh up there.
I’ll have no grief, no pain, no care,
No robe of flesh to snag like before.
I’ll only smile and sing and soar,
High in the Sierra’s where the winds blow free
With only the Lord for company.