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.