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
