A bird with clipped wings,
When the scent of blood sinks,
Nibbled at the strings,
Until its akin to mangled things.
Stretch your wings,
Oh, your gleeful cries sings!
When the snow falls on your feathers,
Just know you're out of your tether.
When your blade sinks into silver,
With all and unending vigor,
Just know, just know,
On the blood-stained snow,
You are a bird with clipped wings,
Yet so F R E E.