She doesn’t lack fame,
You know her name,
She has a beautiful face,
With a lot of grace,
Her wings are weak,
She glided from the peak,
She said to pray,
For a curing ray,
That could mend the wrong,
Did by devils so strong,
They wounded her wings,
With a sword that pings,
That affected her flights,
All days all nights,
She wants to go back,
On her lovely track,
She wants to fly,
In the blue sky,
From east to west,
To extend her nest,
She wants to sing,
On her mono string,
A song for all,
Whether big or small,
A lyric of love,
My poor wounded dove!

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