Maker, Mend Me
The wind blows, I take off to the sky
The trees look like shrubs
Yet I don’t wonder why
I’m held up by this tiny string
That is pulling me higher
Way up here the birds sing
And they whisper, go, go higher
The wind halts like my life
Thunder roars and lightening strikes
But safe to my string I hold tight
Till they rip me to shreds, no more flight
Heaven seems so close to know
The pearly gates are in my sight
Watch me as I take my bow
Watch me for my last flight
How heartless, how cruel,
Is life nothing more than tears and pain?
But just like a toy tossed aside
My days are at an end, but I still remain sane
But safe to my string I hold tight
Until my maker mends me, and again I take flight.
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