I'm the silhouette that flies with the sun,
with wings outstretched, hear my mighty cry
and fear my shadow as it falls upon you.

Shoot me if you must, if you can not help it,
your arrows will not find me
as I circle you slowly.

Be frightened of my beak, drenched in night's blood,
watch as it rips golden columns in two,
but you will never see it bathe in the moon's tears.

You'll never see me, never know my name,
let imagination be your greatest enemy
for I am nothing but a small black bird.

Yes, I am the silhouette that flies with the sun,
so slowly we rise, but
so quickly we dive into darkness.

I am a creature whose battle yawp is "m'aidez"
A thing so small, no bull's eye could do it justice,
whose beak is soaked in its own tears.

A bird so small and so frightened
it is easily swallowed by the shadows
that lick her feathers like the fires of Hell.

You'll never see the silhouette fly at night,
for she is lost within her own darkness,
fearing the shadows that hide under black feathers.

Just as she's about to fall,
listening to her brittle bones break,
the sun picks her up, mends her, and begins the cycle again.




I'm the silhouette that flies with the sun,
with wings outstretched, hear my mighty cry
and fear my shadow as it falls upon you.