High on a pole of salted pine
The copper cables draw a line
A ghost in white with golden eyes
Watches where the salt marsh lies
Unraveling slow in the gray
The white wing is drifting away
Caught in the hum of the wire
Burning like a cold winter fire
Feathers are torn by the sharp breeze
Swaying above the cedar trees
The velvet beak holds a heavy sigh
Under a heavy pewter sky
Unraveling slow in the gray
The white wing is drifting away
Caught in the hum of the wire
Burning like a cold winter fire
Old iron bolts hold the beam tight
Against the coming of the night
The bird is shaking in the wind
Where the forest edge is thinned
Unraveling slow in the gray
The white wing is drifting away
Caught in the hum of the wire
Burning like a cold winter fire
Glass in the lantern starts to glow
Lighting the frozen mud below
A steady beam for the lost at sea
While the white owl begs to be free
One final beat of a heavy wing
Listen to the electric string
The forest floor is dark and deep
Where the winter spirits sleep
Unraveling slow in the gray
The white wing is drifting away
Caught in the hum of the wire
Burning like a cold winter fire
Silver wires hum a low song
Silver wires hum a low song
