Text: Bows. Big Wings.

I could see myself
At twenty eight
What do you think of me now?
To Hell with big wings
Heaven can wait
I won't be
I won't be checking out

Torn
Between big love
And hate
A passion whichever
Way round
Could have been
Could have been
Good intentions run aground

I am
I'm truly young
But I feel so old
'Cause the guage is
Good as gold
Plump and pearly?
It's way too early
Slim and surly
Is clearly divine