Unclip my wings. For I have no further need to fly.
The sycamore will grow beautiful but then the sycamore will die.
Don't chime into the wind for all it speaks is a lie.
You've grown the flowers carefully yet they wilt and die
Just Because I've seen the world does not mean I've seen it's truths
Because the sycamore will tuck its children to bed and they will grow on too.
Because without the wind the sycamores children wouldn't carry along.
And the flowers will one day blossom high and sing a happy song.
With my wings unclipped I will be low but my legs will become strong and stronger they will grow.
