I spread my wings to fly
but often wonder why
my black wings don’t  soar 
anymore.

Used to float above the clouds
Like eagles in majestic shroud
Wrapped in honor
Colored with truth
And alive in spirit;
there was dignity in it

But my Black wings have been through the fire
Been singed, scorched
Even been clipped for the flight
Feathers plucked in desperate times
And used for covering
And what’s in me –sings

Not a love song but the blues
Cause oh, I’ve been used
Till my very soul has broken in two
And all that’s left
Are one and one

Too late for me to fly
Too late to even wonder why
my black wings don’t soar 
anymore.