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