High Flying Bird

You wore a little cross

Of gold around your neck

I saw it as you flew between my reason

Like a raven in the night time when you left

I wear a chain upon my wrist

That bears no name

You touched it and you wore it

And you kept it in your pillow all the same

My high-flying bird

Has flown from out my arms

I thought myself her keeper

She thought

I meant her harm

She thought

I was the archer

A weatherman of words

But I could never shoot down

My, my high-flying bird

The white walls of your dressing room

Are stained in scarlet red

You bled upon the cold stone

Like a young man

Hmm, in the foreign field of death

Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful?

Is all I heard you say

You never closed your eyes at night

And learned to love daylight

Instead you moved away

My high-flying bird

Has flown from out my arms

I thought myself her keeper

She thought

I meant her harm

She thought

I was the archer

A weatherman of words

But I could never shoot down

MyMy high-flying bird

Has flown from out my arms

I thought myself her keeper

She thought

I meant her harm

She thought

I was the archer

A weatherman of words

But I could never shoot down

My, my high-flying bird

My high-flying, high-flying bird

My high-flying, high-flying bird

My high-flying, high-flying bird

My high-flying, high-flying bird