A song is waiting to be freed.

The sun awakens at the advent of the day, streaming,

It can fulfill my greatest need.

The mountains, from their blue veins, bleed,

For they hear the voice of a lonely flute, screaming.

A song is waiting to be freed.

Even the trees, their aching limbs outstretched with greed,

Hope to touch the place where greater life is teeming.

It can fulfill my greatest need.

From the dark canyon, a bird hears as I plead,

And it rises from the ashes, steaming.

A song is waiting to be freed.

A feather drifts from the sky, like heaven’s seed.

I reach for it, even if I know that I am dreaming;

It can fulfill my greatest need.

But the feather burns my hand, for it is difficult to exceed

The sun when, in its rays, the bird is proudly beaming.

A song is waiting to be freed—

It can fulfill my greatest need.