Once upon a time in a land faraway
Was a little bird who wished to fly.
Decked on the branch of the sturdiest tree,
He wished to someday soar so high.
He watched the blazing September sun,
and felt the chilly mountain breeze--
But the beauty he wished to the mountain god
Was to finally have his own pair of wings.
The seasons changed and leaves have fallen,
But the little bird has never forgotten.
Someday he'd join his father soar,
in the beauty of the lovely September morn.
The seasons changed and the leaves have grown,
Yet the little bird still wished to fly;
And little has the little bird known,
that the mountain god has already tried.
The god has given the wings he wanted,
and gave it to his father dearest.
But the mighty father with the greatest feather,
has hidden the wings the little bird wanted.
The seasons changed and the flowers mourned,
And the little bird still wished to fly,
and when the mighty sun has finally adjourned,
the little bird was left to cry.
But one strange December night,
the little bird saw his father come,
and up in flames his father light,
the wings that was supposedly his.
The little bird did not understand,
and his father said he did it for love
and the little bird has nothing left
But a memory of the wings long gone.
The little bird did not understand,
for he knew he was born for the sky,
and never again would he feel the land,
And never again would he hope to fly.
The father thought his son was fine,
and showered him with everything:
But then his son, with his piercing eyes,
told his father to remind:

"What's a sun without its fire,
to bring its light to everything?
I'm meant to soar, I'm meant to fly,
But what's a bird without his wings?"