I can fly with birds of sorrow,
I can fly with twisted wings.
I can fly like there’s no tomorrow,
I can sing like many springs.

People are but lonely birds,
Calling, calling, to be heard,
By other birds, by anyone,
Yet each bird keeps flying on.

Not ever pausing, to stop and hear
A lonely voice, calling dear,
The voices are lost, the voices are found
In the sound of the song, the song of the sound.

But I can fly on lonely waters
And stop to sing with lonely souls,
I can linger on the frontier,
And stop to sing, all alone.

I can soar above the clouds
Watching for someone worth singing with
Watching for someone in the crowds
A singer of songs, a legend, a myth.

But the sky is still grey, so bleak and dark,
Of blackness and unwanted things,
So I fly, as lonely as a lark,
Singing alone, on whispered wings.

In the midst of her loneliness,
she sings a song of agony,
but no one is around to hear it

Her voice fades away in the cold air;
as she sinks slowly into the darkness
that surrounds her anguished heart

You’ve brought me into this world,
and you’re the reason I want to leave it

You were supposed to mend
my wounds when I got hurt
not be the reason behind them

You were supposed to protect
me from any danger,
but you were the danger itself

Your piercing eyes and
cruel hands still haunt me,
and I cannot find any peace

I needed you to tell me
I’m safe when I was scared,
but nothing is more
scarier than you, mother