She was set on leaving home
and her feet were tied
late into her youthful years
she wanted out, out of the well
as her feathers pleaded let me out
the bitter days had touched the leaves
my god, is this true
wasn't her, never really was
my dear he will keep you
in a box inside his bones
the desolated north had torn apart
a bond between two bodies
her tired head, her weary thoughts
so invested on her flame
and all the prairies ever did
was reassure that time would time its time
my god, is this true
wasn't her, never really was
my dear he will keep you
in a box inside his bones
followed by her broken fire
to her place of birth
the umbra cared but couldn't love himself
she was tired, she took him off
and so the west took her away
and in the east he sunk so deep
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