Thunderbird

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David Yates

David Yates (born 8 October 1963) is an English film director, producer and screenwriter, who has directed feature films, short films, and television productions. He is best known for directing the final four films in the Harry Potter series and the three films of its prequel series, Fantastic Beasts. His work on the Harry Potter series brought him critical and commercial success along with accolades, such as the British Academy Britannia Award for Excellence in Directing.Yates directed various short films and became a television director early in his career. His credits include the six-part political thriller State of Play (2003), for which he won the Directors Guild of Great Britain Award for Outstanding Directorial Achievement, the adult two-part documenta… more »

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An old chief climbs up in the mountain
To ask the Thunderbird for a fountain
A fountain from the sky
One to cure the dry
Because the Thunderbird knows how to cry

The villagers' wishing well is empty
Their legend tells where there is plenty
Water from a spring
Flowing from a king
The Thunderbird will make their children sing

An Indian summer like no other kind
Baked their breads
Baked their beds, their lives
When will you see the one
Whose cooling showers block the sun
The Thunderbird's the only one who can

Two days gone and two miles high, he's climbing
Past burial grounds and pines he keeps climbing
Driven by a dream
Of a living stream
The Thunderbird rains life from his wings

An Indian summer like no other kind
Baked their breads
Baked their beds, their lives
When will you see the one
Whose cooling showers block the sun
The Thunderbird's the only one who can

Block the sun
Cure the dry
Cooling showers
Flowing stream

Blue and white, the clouds and sky surround him
And lead him to a temple on the mountain
There he cried
When the bird he spied
Opened the sky and splashed down the mountain side

The Thunderbird had heard
His families' dying words
And the silver rain came down to save their Earth

An Indian summer like no other kind
Baked their breads
Baked their beds, their lives
When will you see the one
Whose cooling showers block the sun
The Thunderbird's the only one who can

An Indian summer like no other kind
Baked their breads
Baked their beds, their lives
When will you see the one
Whose cooling showers block the sun,
The Thunderbird's the only one who can

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