Wreadt

The day you are born
Is the day that you die
You came here to walk
I came here to fly
Fly away home
Where the bugs and the bees
Look to the heavens
And not to the trees
You'll see separate houses
In desperate lands
You'll seek other pastures
And happier plans
But that's not for me
My little chickadee
Don't you look to the West
For your consternation
It lies in that hall
Where it's been all along
You fought to receive it
Now blustering through it
You cannot percieve it
You went ahead and blew it
The time of the rhyme
Has come to its prime
In the end, this saga
Must do deeds or die
Take what thou wilt
And mess it all up
The future holds only
The heart that shall bless it