Working so diligently, in the comfort of his bedroom,
Lived a boy who believed in something people shunned.
Crease and fold, and bend it back,
"An artist is only good, if he can recognize what he lacks".
Crease and fold, and bend it back,
Another crane is born into a world of many birds.
All of them scattered throughout his room,
Sweeping out the gray and making life brighter, he would say.
Different colors that of which bounced off the walls from the sun,
A quite vivid display, they made the shunning "not so bad"
He believed that a thousand cranes would grant him a wish,
And his only bet was to fold and crease away.
Until his last day came, and a car hit him upon walking home.
On that very day, his wish had been fulfilled.
The sun shined through, and sparkled on the emerald green grass.
The cerulean shaded sky reminded him of his only love.
The thousand paper cranes that flew, from high above.