she's a fairy with broken wings. i used to go watch her perform,
and if she hears me, i hope she sings the songs,
that had me goin' right back...couldn't find anyone in town to talk,
about how no one like that...should be confined to the ground we walk.

she glides...so much it seems like she floats and these folks,
decide...to crush her wings until they're permanently broke.
she'd ride...gusts of wind just by the way she spoke.
she cries...but loves to sing songs of freedom and hope.
on the east side...hustling, discussing things that we quote,
in shallow conversations as if we have deep throats.
we choke on our confusion, not sure if it's a heat stroke or if we need coats,
trading in our cheap jokes for c-notes.
i see notes being passed, i ask to see what these creeps wrote,
to find silly kids had flying privileges revoked.
ski slopes have been blocked off...they can't chance it.
had weights tied to her ankles, she most definitely can't skip
town. she's held down by the transcripts my hands grip.
i tried to tie her wings back on before they're once again clipped.
panic stricken...she'll remain stuck
on a titanic sinkin'...but she's tryin' to stay up.
change her plan, thinkin'..."it's okay." see this is strange but,
abraham lincoln freed the slaves in a way that kept them chained up.
i'd like to see her take flight into the stars,
instead of letting her fly free, they keep her in jars.
instead of letting 'em fly free, they keep 'em in jars.
i put my hands to the glass so hard that it might break the prison bars.
it isn't hard to see why they keep her captive,
she's naturally attractive, speaks with ad-libs, she's uncommonly talented.
ain't enough adjectives to do her disposition justice.
kids are wishin' for just a kiss and it's a mission to touch her lips.
they can't trust her with freedom of movement. that's a chance to lose her quick,
if she ups and splits, so you might as well call that discussion quits.
they have ways to keep her down. the government's underlings
enslave people in this town...especially if their culture's rich.
exploiting talents, making her do a bunch of tricks,
with the rest of the wingless imports, repeatedly told:
"you ain't a fairy, you just a bitch!
with a butt that's thick...
so rub your tits...
and thrust your hips...
and suck my dick...
and run your shit...and run your shit...and run your shit..."

she's a fairy with broken wings, i used to go watch her perform,
and if she hears me, i hope she sings songs,
that had me goin' right back...couldn't find anyone in town to talk
about how no one like that...should be confined to the ground we walk.

when i was down in new york, she'd send me letters and i read her passages,
about how i left her to the savages.
no matter how sad that is, i didn't cry,
'cause it was only a matter of time before they'd figured me out and tried to strip my pride.
i knew the scoop...wish you could've seen the blueprints in my eye,
when i flew the coup, utilizing overground railroads in the sky.
it was live or die. let me let you in on this secret of mine,
me and you are different, girl...we don't even need wings to fly.

keep on singing. give it a try. give it a try.