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.