[Intro] [A single, crystal-clear plucked guzheng plays a slow, echoing melody. Quiet rain background] [Verse 1] [Spacious and minimal. Just a gentle floating vocal, Chinese Lute pipa] The sky is dressed in shades of slate and stone The city down below is sleeping monochrome But by this window frame, a secret starts to grow A spark of precious light from seeds you helped to sow You woke the sleeping artist in my mind Left a trail of gold for my heavy soul to find [Chorus] [An ambient koto plucks an upbeat, soaring pattern, Chinese Lute pipa] So I am folding up my gratitude Folding every dream I owe to you Go fly, little glider, through the pouring rain Bring back the color to his windowpane Catch a current, ride it high A stained-glass prism in a stormy sky [Verse 2] Look at these wings, they are woven from your spark A map of memories that glitter in the dark You made my heavy heart imagine how to soar Now I don't see the shadows like I did before I blow a breath of magic on this paper spine To send you back the light you gave to mine [Chorus] [Light, ethereal, and clear.] So I am folding up my gratitude Folding every dream I owe to you Go fly, little glider, through the pouring rain Bring back the color to his windowpane Catch a current, ride it high A stained-glass prism in a stormy sky [Bridge] [Instruments drop out completely except for a sharp, clean acoustic pluck and an echo effect on her voice] Up, up, past the rooftops... Through the grey, finding your window... [Outro] [Only the echoing pluck of the guzheng remains, fading into silence] You taught my soul to fly... Now I am sending it into the sky. [Fade Out] [End]
