What good are these wings to me
They have never helped me to be free.
What use have I for these eyes
Pluck them out, ignore my plaintiff cries.
What need have I of these arms
None, none if not for your charms
What use my soul what use my heart
Your harsh words have rent them in half.
What point my life what hope have I
I am replete, forlorn I need to die.
What good these wings I ask you with a sigh
What good to me who can no longer fly.