With your wings frayed and torn,
Laughter's your's so is scorn
As they point to you in shame.
With your wings near fire,
But confess when your tire,
Is the candle worth the flame?
But with morning's early light
There's not a hear to really call your own;
Change your ways and repent,
Take my love that was meant
For black butterfly along.
With your wings frayed and torn,
Laughter's your's so is scorn
As they point to you in shame.
With your wings near fire,
But confess when your tire,
Is the candle worth the flame?
But with morning's early light
There's not a hear to really call your own;
Change your ways and repent,
Take my love that was meant
For black butterfly along. More from Mercer Ellington