Orange in the Winter Sky - Download

Verse 1

Born in the forests where the cold winds roar,

Northern birch woods by the Arctic shore.

Scandinavia skies where the daylight burns,

That’s where the mountain finch takes its turn.

Black summer head and an orange flame chest,

White rump flashing when it leaves the nest.

Fourteen centimeters but it rides the wind,

A tiny wild traveler with miles to spin.

Pre-Chorus

When the winter bites and the food runs low,

Southbound wings in the frost and snow.

Chorus

Fly, Brambling, fly tonight,

Orange fire in the winter light.

From Russia’s woods to the fields of the UK,

Riding cold winds all the way.

Hear that buzzing call in the sky so high,

Like a rusty wheel crying as it flies.

Little finch on a migration line,

Born for the road and the northern pine.

Verse 2

Spring comes back to the taiga land,

Song rings out through the birch tree stand.

Nest in the branches built with moss and thread,

Lined with feathers for the chicks ahead.

Five or six eggs with a speckled hue,

Red and brown with a pale sky blue.

Eleven days till the shells break free,

Tiny beaks screaming in the tree.

Pre-Chorus

Parents hunting insects through the air,

Aphids and ants for the nestlings there.

Chorus

Fly, Brambling, fly tonight,

Orange blaze in the fading light.

Across the continents you ride the storm,

Through the frost and the thunder warm.

When autumn calls and the daylight dies,

Millions gather where the beech mast lies.

Little finch with a restless cry,

Living wild in the northern sky.

Bridge (instrumental break feel)

Seeds on the ground when the frost winds blow,

Beech nuts falling through the snow.

Sometimes roaming with chaffinch bands,

Searching wide across the lands.

Europe to Asia, forests wide,

Twenty-five centimeter wings in stride.

Massive flocks darken winter skies,

One small bird but a million lives.

Final Chorus

Fly, Brambling, burn the sky,

White rump flashing as you fly.

From Arctic woods to the farmland plain,

Chasing seeds through the wind and rain.

When the spring wind howls you’re gone again,

Back to the birch woods in the northland glen.

Little finch with a heart that won’t lie—

You were born, Brambling…

Born to fly.