| I see myself a hero
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| While one wings falls away
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| And the dial approaches zero
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| In a spiralling display
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| My past life flashes feverishly
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| And lives I did not lead
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| Like the time I was a hero
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| Of a weird, outlandish breed
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| One arm of flesh and muscle
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| And one of feathered scale
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| I was hero with one wing
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| That was of no avail
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| I could only fly in circles
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| Like a corkscrew in the sky
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| My one wing flapping frantically
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| While birds just glided by
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| I launched myself from mountains
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| And from the highest trees
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| And though I could get nowhere
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| Just landed on my knees
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| But still I was a hero
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| With one wing more than most
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| Almost half an Angel;
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| A whirling holy ghost
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| My father was an eagle
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| With two wings wide as sails
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| My mother was the west wind witch
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| With grasping finger nails
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| She lured him from his aerie
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| With her twittering device
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| She kept him in a golden cage
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| And fed him field mice |