Wither-wing, tell me it's not what it seems,
Tell me it's not what it means to try and fly while your wing is withering,
Wither-wing, have you tried lately to fly when you sing?
Have you flown high with the help of your dead thing?
Oh, Wither-wing.
And didn't your mother kiss you and say, "It's okay, you're all right"?
Didn't your father hit the bed with the wrong side of the leather instead of you?
Tell me it's true.
Wither-wing, don't care about what the world wants you to sing,
Don't worry about what the world wants you to bring,
Don't worry about a thing.
And did your mother scream out and cry?
Didn't your father work hard and try to make a life worthy of you?
Don't tell me you're blue, wither-wing.
Get over this while you sing,
Jump over this while you bring a little sting,
Wither-wing.
