Be good little birdie,
In your gilded cage;
Don't peck the hand that feeds you.
In your gilded cage;
Don't peck the hand that feeds you.
If I were of a weaker disposition I would have already sold my soul a very long time ago. I would have sold it to the first person who decided that they wanted to marry me, just so that I could get out of my 'perfect' life. It would probably have been a case of trading in one sort of rut for another...choosing the lesser of two evils I suppose.
Except, God didn't create me complacent. He didn't create me of a weaker disposition. Though sometimes, sometimes I wish He had...because rowing against the tide gets so tiring, that you just want to let go, and drift. And then you remember, that's not an option, because you weren't born simple.
Sit pretty little birdie,
In your gilded cage;
Patience will soon well serve you.
Except, God didn't create me complacent. He didn't create me of a weaker disposition. Though sometimes, sometimes I wish He had...because rowing against the tide gets so tiring, that you just want to let go, and drift. And then you remember, that's not an option, because you weren't born simple.
Sit pretty little birdie,
In your gilded cage;
Patience will soon well serve you.
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