A man upon the water the stories that he told
the tears are pulled from eyes tired yet bold
they watched his bleeding heart mirrored in what he told
he did not know they played a harp before a king of gold
the music that it read the emotion that it told
the very blood he bled pumping fire to his soul
and the power the king held in his hands
the reigns of the wing of the winds of change
it flew about the misty morning and lye the wings on his
head
and blessed him with dreams it had captured
the future I am told it yet to behold
but lying like a bed for him to lay
the time that he has spent searching his soul
now makes sense for the goal taking the hands
to lead the men that take the time to be told
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