You wore a little cross of gold around your neck
I saw it as you flew between my reason
Like a raven in the night time when you left
I wear a chain upon my wrist that bears no name
You touched it and you wore it
And you kept it in your pillow all the same
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
She thought I was the archer
A weather man of words
But I could never shoot down
My high flying bird
The white walls of your dressing room
Are stained in scarlet red
You bled upon the cold stone like a young man
In the foreign field of death
"Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful"
Is all I heard you say
You never closed your eyes at night
And learned to love daylight
Instead you moved away
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
She thought I was the archer
A weather man of words
But I could never shoot down
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
She thought I was the archer
A weather man of words
But I could never shoot down
My high flying bird
My high flying, high flying bird
My high flying, high flying bird
My high flying, high flying bird
My high flying, high flying bird