OF ALL BIRDS, YOU’RE THE RAREST ONE

A page from Florence Welch’s book “Useless Magic”

Sorrow clips the wild bird's wings
And takes away her will to sing
You must make your own light here
Don't ever let them take it, dear

My darling, you are a powerful creature
Your black wings catch the light
You carry in your blood the ancient songs
The future is yours to write

My dear, you are a beautiful creature
I love to hear you sing
Guard your vision, hold it tight
Wild things exist on the wind

Some say a comet will block out the sun
Some predict a new ice age will come
Fear clips the wings of the wildest creature
And tames her from the sky

They will try to shoot you down
Arrows piercing through the clouds
It hurts their pride most bitterly
To imagine you are free

My friend, you come from far away
The place where every dream is made
Feel the quiver in your lungs
As you take another breath

Hope can rise up on the wind
It always comes from little things
In your blood, the ancient songs
Grant your heart its sight

Keep singing and news worlds will form
Of all birds, you're the rarest one
Without you, they don't have a song
Just empty arrows in the ground

You were born to catch the sky
From little hopes, the flowers rise
Of all birds, you're the rarest here
Don't ever let them tame you, dear.