Nightingale, oh my blue nightingale

How wondrous your songs make my day

You let my troubles left astray

Oh nightingale, blue nightingale now off we sail


Through the seas and blues we together wander

Off and on shore storms yet your night songs provide me refuge

That's why I kept going each breakfast through supper

For the night I wait for your songs to cure my somber


Oh do I sometimes wonder why such night you only sing

But not for the day where my troubles are on its wing

Blue nightingale oh you're such full of mysteries

Yet I shan't bother for I cast you always my sea stories


After a long while my senses poked for you don't sing no more

Nor your colorful blue wings spread nevermore

The storms went, wrecked our ship now we're only together

My poor heart grieves, my poor soul hungers


Then I realized you only sing for the stars

Not for the morning sun, not for you, not for our poor ship and oh not for me

You've always dreamed to fly, fly away from here

To the stars that is, to the ambitious stars you always loved


Oh nightingale, blue nightingale from this false abode now I've awaken

From the lust o' spell I've once trapped from your songs forsaken

Now I have to let you go no breath ever taken

Away now you fly and let me forever alone freeze on this cold of ice


Oh nightingale, my blue nightingale now you're gone

But now I suppose, so am I

Nightingale, blue nightingale in my dreams you shall now sing and fly high

And now let I be put to sleep and alone sing this last cold sigh.

I have seen the stars but not the night
Neither did the moon nor the sun lit a shining bright
Next thing I knew I was laying on this tree of white
Just to loom about til the butterflies took their flight

Now as I sat there waiting to arise
Someone threw me a thorn from a cold velvet rose
Never did I hesitate to put that thorn on my brows
For I knew who was whom and never uttered a close.

And then suddenly I came accepting the truth;
A truth that once bloom from a never lasting loop
Yes I know!
For it must be a part of my root
For the last thing I knew,
I am now the tree;
Once that white-flaked fruit