This song I sing
rides on clear wings
invisible, and sown of sky
It soars, it dances
right past the masses
of eagles and falcons,
of airplanes and napkins,
All past, yes it sours
on the invisible wings
Weaved with the blue
Of infinite lightness

The world revolves around
the plight of broken wings
So this song I sing
will rest on clearer wings
that'll sour past the buildings
the apartments, the skyscrapers
that try to scratch the sky;
It'll fly, yes, it will;
These wings will make
my song fly.

For when the world revolves
around the plight of broken wings
The troubles brood between dark and pale
So sits on clear invisible wings
my song sings its soul
Into the world's empty skies

The people will look
so tiny, so scared
from the distance
So up high!

Higher than they'll ever reach
Never in all their lifetime
of building and searching
of tirelessly unrelenting
work and things to do
for the day to keep on working
for gears to keep on turning
For worlds to move on
No, but my song will fly
It'll fly up in the sky
And leave me here for dust
and to rust with my gears
and little mechanical works
that I've built in my toil
for my toil
end my toil;
but my song will still fly

I sing this song
To your deaf, blind ears
That listen but may not hear
That hear but may not listen
to the sounds of cries
and the sounds of gladness
So please, I ask of you;

Find a bird with broken wings
Wings clipped, or snapped in two
Wrap it up with a piece of sky
Free from clouds to snag or ground

then let it go, so it will fly;

On clear wings of broken bone
On clear wings of flight it'll go
Up and up, into heavens above
Up into perilous light.