Old and withered, I cry out in the pain of it all.
Knowing that no one is left to answer my call.
Consumed by sadness, despair and fear,
I search for what still holds me here.
I cannot seem to find a thing, the thing that holds me here.
So I sigh, and with a final cry, I burst into flame.
But instead of the cold grip of death, I feel the pull of life.
Reborn anew, no longer a captive of grief and strife.
I am still who I was before, but somehow not the same.
I am a wild, newborn thing, no longer shy and tame.
The pain still hides within my chest, an ache of the past.
But I no longer feel the need to let it hold me fast.
So in my finally desperate hours, where my soul gave in.
I grew and became something new, not captive of that sin.
I am a creature of flame, of feathers, bone and wing.
Yet all will hear my song when I decide to sing.
