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My life has been measured
Iâve been plucked of my feathers
My bodyâs cold floating in the river alone
I sang from a nest
Until the wolf dragged my friends
Back to her den. We never sang again
Come home to me and weâll dig up the ground
Weâll rebuild our nest with the bones that we found
I need a love
Strong enough to hold me up
My friends are a crutch. I canât use them enough
No sleeping away
With you digging up my grave
The mistakes weâve made now mold the clay
So I sing through the catacombs
And Iâm digging up worms alone
Oh your echo returns any song Iâve ever chirped
Mama bird, mama bird. She couldnât care for her young
Echo are you there return to me
My dearest son, you will die young
My dearest son, you will die young
My dearest son
And Iâll fabricate new wings
But I swear that I wonât sing. I wonât sing
- Álbum:
- A Young Cliff Diver
- Carabosse