The Song Stealer
I was born to sing and it is true; at least that's what I thought until I met you.
You took my songs, you stole my words.
You took my songs and gave them to some other bird.
Now what is a bird without its wings?
With both wings broken and no song to sing;
You left me for death and for crows ravishing.
Tell me what is a bird without its wings?
Yet you forgot that I could walk,