The Soul Jazz Era - The Sky Knows Me

Just like that.
These wings of mine are hard to carry; they frighten people when they see them.
They're not made of feathers; they're something else,
Sharp as blades, with sunlight flashing on their edges.
Fly, fly, through the fear and pain.
Fly, fly, straight through the fire again,
Through birth and death, through centuries.
Fly, fly, I cut through the darkness with my light,