Intro

A black-winged dreamer watched the morning burn

And asked the sky for feathers he could earn

Verse 1

On a fencepost, past the fields, where the cold winds ran,

A raven studied every bright thing the daylight planned.

He saw a firebird cross the clouds like a blade,

Gold along its shoulders, sun caught in its wake.

“Give me that kind of glory, let me climb that high—

I’m tired of being only ink against the sky.”

He gathered every ember from the old mill’s grate,

And wore them like a promise, though they seared his shape.

Chorus

He wanted the crown of the firebird, wanted the flame,

Traded the dark of his feathers for a brighter name.

Higher he climbed till the whole world turned gold—

Then the fire took the dream, and the dream took its toll.

Ash on the wind, where the proud wings flew;