Look the hunter is there Left right everywhere To cut the wings of hope and desires Ready to finish the untold story But remember The wounded story leaves a mark unseen May be coded in some language Not easy to be deciphered by a common being Sooner or later The untold will be revealed one day Ignorant and unawared The hunter stood there bewildered When I carried the faith intact on my broken wings Staggering steps were left behind When madness paved the way The madness to not give up easily The madness to try one more time The madness to learn how to survive in the chaos blind The madness to move forward even with broken ribs Oh dear hunter! Come and have a look! Though the wings are still bleeding red The same red paints my aspirations Fuels my dwindling hope To fly a little more high Each wounded stroke beckons To fly a little more high To fly a little more high...