Breaking bread,making doe,feed the birds,save you soul. Born with wings, angles know, torn in between a painful road, thorns that stain as your halo, heaven is high, and hells is low.
Feed the birds-Sufi
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She wears their fear around her neckBreaking bread,making doe,feed the birds,save you soul. Born with wings, angles know, torn in between a painful road, thorns that stain as your halo, heaven is high, and hells is low.
Feed the birds-Sufi