A phoenix sits upon a tree

looking at me, looking at me

and far away it sings to me

what can you see, what can you see


“I see bright fire waving haltingly

calling to me, calling to me

Memories of all that I used to be

what do you see? what do you see?”


I see grey ashes ‘round a hidden key

where is that key? where is that key?

and when was it taken so suddenly

away from me, away from me

I see a tempest rising out at sea

coming for me, coming for me

and when my song ends finally

where will i be? where will i be?


I wish I could say that it will always be

close to me, close to me

and when it dies there is more to see

more to say, more melodies

and not a voice parched from casualties

of bleeding songs whispered chokingly

dry cracked feathers settling tiredly

a sweet searing fire sighing soothingly

goodbye to me, goodbye to me


The phoenix sitting upon a tree

looks right at me, looks right at me

and when I turn reluctantly

it does not cry for me, it does not cry for me