(Verse 1)
Sixteen years, a flame so bright,
Red-gold hair in morning light.
A mind that sparked with curious fire,
A hunter's heart, a keen desire.
Through shadowed woods, he'd softly tread,
The silent language nature said
He understood, the tracks, the breeze,
Beneath the rustling canopy of trees.
(Verse 2)
His pencil danced on paper white,
Capturing creatures in their flight.
A stag at dawn, a soaring hawk,
Each stroke alive, a whispered talk.
He saw the world with artist's eyes,
The subtle hues of earth and skies.
From tangled roots to feathered wing,
His gifted hand made beauty sing.
(Verse 3)
A family's joy, a love so true,
A girlfriend's smile, forever new.
He shared his dreams, his quiet grace,
A gentle touch upon her face.
They saw the brilliance in his gaze,
The countless bright and hopeful days
That stretched ahead, a future bold,
A story waiting to unfold.
(Verse 4)
But shadows fell where light had shone,
A silent battle fought alone.
The weight unseen, a hidden pain,
A fragile spirit strained in vain.
The world he held within his art,
Could not contain his breaking heart.
At sixteen years, the light went dim,
A life too bright, abruptly grim.
(Verse 5)
The rifle sleeps, the pencils still,
An empty space upon the hill
Where he would watch the sun descend,
A chapter closed, a tragic end.
His mother's tears, a father's sigh,
A sister's question to the sky.
His girlfriend's whisper in the breeze,
A longing heart that finds no ease.
(Outro)
The ginger hair, a memory dear,
The talent lost, the absence clear.
They search for answers in the gray,
Why such a light could fade away.
And in their hearts, a constant ache,
For the boy they loved, they can't bring back.
Sixteen years, a fleeting grace,
An empty chair, an empty space.
