Right from the start,
I was always leaving you behind;
And though you bound me tight
With a thousand finely-woven strings
I cut them one by one,
And I spread these wasted wing.
And all the wasted years,
All the lines you scratched into my face
Were the bitter price to pay
For a single vast mistake.
But I'm leaving you behind:
There'll be no more songs for you;
I'm leaving you behind
To spread these wasted wings.
