My high flying high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
My high flying high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
Sober in the morning light
Things look so much different
To how they looked last night
As whispers circulate all day
Their back stage baby princess passed away
The white walls of your dressing
room are stained in scarlet red
You bled upon the cold stone like a young man
In the foreign field of death
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
She thought I was the archer
A weather man of words
My high flying bird
Has flown from out my arms
I thought myself her keeper
She thought I meant her harm
She thought I was the archer
A weather man of words
But I could never shoot down
My high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
My high flying high flying bird
The white walls of your dressing room are stained in scarlet red
You bled upon the cold stone like a young man
In the foreign field of death