The White Eagles

The White Eagles

In the country of sparkling stars
In the country of dulcet harps
Watch an eagle that flies so high
That you can’t see it in the sky
And the colour of it is white
It is shining within the night
Always braveness and always pride
In the sky, always side by side
They are always in solitude
In the country of beauty rude
In the side of my falling dream
Always generous, never grim
Always kind and forever lost
The white eagle’s a flying ghost