The hair on my neck tingles as it blows by,

It pushes every cloud above me in the sky,

Maybe it finally understands why I want to die,

Why I cry.

The wind in the air is the only comforting presence,

The sweeping motion will not repent,

For my sins are much to great to descend,

It understands.

It understands why I climb,

Why I wish to die,

Why sometimes I must lie,

In order to pass by,

Again I cry.

It lifts the crying tears off my face as I prepare to fly,

Then it says a final goodbye.