Flowers He Bled
Under the trees of concrete jungle
He was a rare Siberian tiger
Hair tied up, sacred vines from his head
Tears in my eyes, my soul is fed.
Channeling energy through his eyes
Tall and strong Cypress standing along
Glimpse of hope I throw from my throne
Effortless sounds, his music is pure
Touches the hearts, meant to cure
So hard to forget
Echo will linger,
Like flowers he bled.
Day that is lived in the darkness or hell
Can turn up the brightest,
Ringing truth bell.