From the high-up perch, surveying the sound
Eyes that bore right through the ground
A jet-black stare that pierces the core
A feigning laugh, what a bleeding bore
The joke's on you mister, can't you see?
I've got wings - so much better to flee
As you stumble and bump around
I'll catch the wind - I'll never be bound!
Only the one who circles higher
Will I allow to call me liar
Until that day, you turn your head
And remember well, what I've just said
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