Soaring above the field
the pidgeon saw the world revealed
but by its own flight it was betrayed
for that pidgeon was made of clay

Floating like a summer's cloud
my love for her was high and proud
yet my heart was chipped one day
for my heart was made of clay

Beauty can't always be entrusted
to the potters hand
so build your beauty from something
that can withstand
more than the lovers arrow
at least
til the morrow