Be still my soul.
Be silent and calm,
For none can know of your brooding.
You flutter and twitch
And lie down again
But to be stirred by a draft.
You foolish thing.
Fold your wings,
For you shall not fly this day.
Soaring is a treacherous deed
And should rarely be done,
But never in another's presence.
It's so easy to plummet;
To fall to the depths
Of despair's deepest abyss.
So be still my soul,
And fold your wings,
For you shall not fly tonight.