The morning rises She finds herself In the middle of a park As the city awakes
A peaceful silence It appears A little rift within the lute Too calm, too bright
Then she turns and sees A second sun today A beauty in the sky That wipes her own away
With wings too weak to rise And prayer in her eyes She is folding for her life A thousand paper cranes
So she lies In dreams that become memories The little life she has left clings to An undying hope to be free again
With wings too weak to rise And prayer in her eyes She is folding for her life A thousand paper cranes And folding to survive Her fate keeps her alive To pacify our minds By a thousand paper cranes! Set free
