BABY, I DON’T UNDERSTAND
WHY WE CAN’T JUST HOLD ON TO EACH OTHER’S HANDS
THIS TIME WILL BE THE LAST I FEAR
UNLESS I MAKE IT ALL TOO CLEAR
I NEED YOU SO…
The scene has already been set, and the rainbow of lights on the roller rink is spinning as wildly as the wheels on our skates. Round and round and round we go, where we find love we’ll never know. It’s winter and I’ve not yet happened upon the very first brush with a crush that would drive me crazy. For now, it was enough to swirl around the roller rink
My wings had not yet been broken, crushed or clipped. They were as fine and untouched as a newly-hatched chick, minus the messy wet stuff I suppose. I flew around the roller rink as if gliding on air, propelling myself between and among the couples trying in awkward fashion to hold hands, their flailing arms and legs a sure sign that this was not easy or comfortable for them. I could swerve in and out of the groups, weaving among friends and strangers alike, unbound and unattached and all the more uninhibited for it. There is a certain happy freedom in not being tethered to anyone.
TAKE THESE BROKEN WINGS
AND LEARN TO FLY AGAIN AND LEARN TO LIVE SO FREE
WHEN WE HEAR THE VOICES SINGS
THE BOOK OF LOVE WILL OPEN UP AND LET US IN
TAKE THESE BROKEN WINGS
Before romance even entered my life, I embraced the rebellious freedom of childhood – not in any sort of misbehavior or rule-breaking, but in the way children are naturally inclined to rebel against the strict rigid social structure imposed by adults and the arbitrary madness of trying to contain and control the human heart.
As a child, my favorite dreams were of flying – soaring high over hills and streams, beside the clouds and between the earth and the stars – of effortless and uncontainable joy. The closest I could get to that in the little town of Amsterdam was a roller rink where I could go faster than almost anyone else thanks to a quicksilver attitude and an ability to melt into the background while getting exactly where I needed to go.
BABY I THINK TONIGHT
WE CAN TAKE WHAT WAS WRONG AND MAKE IT RIGHT
BABY IT’S ALL I KNOW, THAT YOU’RE HALF OF THE FLESH
AND BLOOD MAKES ME WHOLE
I NEED YOU SO…
SO TAKE THESE BROKEN WINGS
AND LEARN TO FLY AGAIN AND LEARN TO LIVE SO FREE
WHEN WE HEAR THE VOICES SINGS
THE BOOK OF LOVE WILL OPEN UP AND LET US IN
In many ways, I never gave my wings to anyone to break – I’d destroy them myself, in choices made from ignorance and innocence, in the mistaken name of love, in the moments where the heart overrode the head, and passion took doomed flight without permission. They were my wings to pluck, my flight to take, and when I chose to walk and keep them closed and unseen, they were my burden to bear.
