Little Wings Of Doom
I had a real good time in your bed,
but with an old indian song there,
inside my head,
to not listen to the corny songs
you cluelessly played everywhere
all day and night long.
I kept silent to avoid the fight
every time you expected of me
more than I might,
but I couldn't accept the doom
of possessiveness I'd see
in your artful room.
I said I needed my own space,
why did you try to get me stuck
only in your place?
It made me flap my little wings
and try flights with a better luck
as the moonbeam sings.
Now, I'm riding with the wind free,
I am walking through the clouds loose...
now plays, while I'm driving so far,
only the sweet songs I choose
in Hendrix's guitar.