Amber spots the wall
Monarch bodies great and small
All to be the struggled flight
And cut their wings with the silver night
Yes, we cut our wings in the faith of flight

Bleeding broken toes
Mary wept for all of those
Creatures that hung from cathedral walls
That cut their wings with silver claws
Yes, we cut our wings in the doubt of law

In the museums we wait
To see if the past will deliver our fate
Teach us a thing or two about age
And cut their wings in the silver rain
Yes, we cut our wings in the still of shame

Nobody sees what it’s worth, the thrill of the flight, the aerial earth
Plucking and scratching the wings and the dress, stripping the lace by demeaning her sex
Oh, the monarch that struggles to beat off the wind, steady antennas like linear fins
I am defined by the choices I’ve made, of ripping the splendor off the Monarch’s displayed

Amber spots the wall
Monarch bodies great and small
All to be the struggled flight
And cut their wings with the silver night
Yes, we cut our wings in the faith of flight