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.

Citizen humble,

Citizen wise,

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

Experienced something,

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.