- cifra
White bird,
In a golden cage,
On a winter's day,
In the rain.
White bird,
In a golden cage,
Alone.
The leaves blow,
'cross the long black road.
To the darkened skies,
In its rage.
But the white bird just sits in her cage,
Alone.
White bird must fly
Or she will die.
White bird,
Dreams of the aspen trees,
With their dying leaves,
Turning gold.
But the white bird just sits in her cage,
Growing old.
White bird must fly or she will die.
The sunsets come, the sunsets go.
The clouds pile high, and the earth moves slow.
And the young bird's eyes do always know.
She must fly...
White bird,
In a golden cage,
On a winter's day, in the rain.
White bird,
In a golden cage alone.
White bird must fly or she will die...
