I parked my pedestal in the garage
And placed my head outside on a table
The one called 'Idea' ready to live
With the face of an angel
So this is what it feels like to have wings
Coming out of the sides of your head
And to be innocent of all self-interest
A messenger of the wind and the dead
To have a tongue of stone
At one with the great 'Idea'
Of a heart in its early stages
Before the blood arrives
But someone had to be there
It was you wasn't it waiting
Alone and eager to fly
Watching your life pass by
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