He who looks at many,
But appreciates none.
His when a wife, just a woman as any.
Out he seeks as none to find in Perfection,
for his insatiable eyes appreciation.
Out he goes, with both his eyes,
So lost and found, as the woman that loves him most,
Inside a home is trapped into his lies,
Stripped from her wings and locked with flies.
And out he goes, so lost and blind,
Carrying out in blood his dissatisfaction
As his, the most valuable Dove Bird, is left behind
But there he goes spreading throughout the winds, his Trophies:
With his untrue words of love,
He Conquered a Dove.
Now his divorce memories to remind,
that all he kept were the old wings,
of a masterpiece, that he freed from his guilty mind,
to F R E E Fly.