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