The Doe
The Doe
If they had not torn it out of meAway from meThe soft feathersOf the cygnetWould still be growing fromMy fingertipsAnd Had they not ripped itFrom my chestThe heart of the doeWould still beat within me
But I was tornAnd I was RippedSo now I collect the feathersOf the baby swanI stick them back onto myFingertipsAnd I haveReceived a new heartThe heart of a doeShe gave up her life To restore my soul
I have lostAnd I have foundAgain
Copyright © 2013 C. JoyBell C. All rights reserved.
If they had not torn it out of meAway from meThe soft feathersOf the cygnetWould still be growing fromMy fingertipsAnd Had they not ripped itFrom my chestThe heart of the doeWould still beat within me
But I was tornAnd I was RippedSo now I collect the feathersOf the baby swanI stick them back onto myFingertipsAnd I haveReceived a new heartThe heart of a doeShe gave up her life To restore my soul
I have lostAnd I have foundAgain
Copyright © 2013 C. JoyBell C. All rights reserved.
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