The tremors in the dust The blackened shrunken wood From the tallest of the green treetops To the shriveled dark ground
The phoenix lives in a place of oblivion Darkness surrounds Till a splash of moonlight hits the pool of death Till a golden soul touches the grim birth place Until a pure mind asks ‘Where has this pile of ashes approached from?’ Until you would come along.
Then the ashes will rumble Burn red, then white hot A flame will appear out of nowhere And grow with a magnificent roar.
It shall leap and tumble Snap and growl Till you hear the scream of 1 thousand Till you scream it yourself
The phoenix shall come forth from that fire With a snap, a growl, and a roar Fire is her breast and feather Her majesty and noble brow.
No havoc will her beast behest Not singe a tiny mouse Just circle the sun and back again To the ashes and her rest.