The Good
Every good thing
Comes to an end
Like a bird
With flapping wings
Bound to break and bend
It flies
It flew
It clung
To the life it barely knew
To the good life
To the Dove’s favorite lie
But the good soon die
Only the good die young
The bird was young and dumb
But if she’d lived a longer life
She would’ve soon
grown old and wise
And evil
And quite numb
And then she’d be corrupt
Little Miss Dove
Didn’t die when she should’ve
Little Miss Dove
Is still flying
And the bird that dear Dove
A long time ago was
Is slowly
Slowly dying
Little Miss Dove
If only a little
Wanted to live longer
Who’s she trying to kid?
All the Dove did
If only a little
Was prolong the inevitable
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