Peregrine

The wicked wind it howls its vorpal din
Its whipping whorls and lashes flick across your skin
You take a breath, so sits a stoic lost in thought
As symbols clad in starlight, calculate the cost

With a thought
In a dream
I'm coming close
Will to see

With a chance
To be free
Will to fly
Count of three

Take to the sky
Go, say your last goodbye
A light through the dim
Flies the Peregrine

As quaking waves like thunder crash about your mind
You crumble, crimson-shifted walls of space and time
A strider, swift ascendant, soaring through the planes
An iridescent, eager-eye, with all to gain

With a thought
In a dream
I'm coming close
Will to see

With a chance
To be free
Will to fly
Count of three

Take to the sky
Go, Say your last goodbye
Light through the dim
Flies the Peregrine

Fly on
Fly on
Fly on
Fly, fly, fly on