It was reddish with the sky all to white
a silent wind hushed the painted day sky
And forward I faced my back towards the night
and I soared with that warm wind ever so high

Up so high where I can breathe so clearly
Fleeing with the storm clouds drawing so near
I attempt to escape my hate hastily
The cleaver draws ever closer to my dear

Flying up to the man's neck with my shear
Without saying goodbye i take my stride
and quickly "He's dead, gone" i clearly hear
Again i take to the wind and the morning
I save time by changing and taking sides

I hope to get home swift before scorning
And go join in the day break aborning