She’s here again my owl, my friend,
I can hear her call.
Her black and wingspread silhouette
Is cast upon my wall.
Her voice an ancient echo,
Of what has gone before.
I climb upon her feathered back,
And through the air we soar,
She takes me to the Ferryman,
Upon a distant shore.
 [bad word] 
If life’s a symphony,
sing along, sing along.
Each note a harmony
in our song, in our song.

I place a coin into his hands
This voyage to undertake.
So silent I can hear my breath,
His craft, it leaves no wake.
Lady stands upon the shore
She’s reaching out her hands
Her face as silver as the Moon
I step upon the land,
And tears of joy fall from my eyes,
For now I understand.

She takes me to a distant cave,
With a door of stone.
place of rest, a silent tomb,
I step inside alone.
And then I see familiar shapes
Of things I’ve known before,
Toys that meant so much to me,
Are scattered on the floor.
And all the things I keep inside,
And try hard to ignore

My first guitar, a long-lost friend,
time I nearly fell,
And my Grandmother’s music box,
With the tune I knew so well.
Faces of [bad word] and gone,
glass full of tears,
And as I watch they fade away
Back into distant years
All a part of who I am,
My hopes and dreams and fears

I wake to greet a brand new day,
But see what I have found,
feather and a silver coin,
Are lying on the ground….