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Little Wing

The Corrs

Now she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that’s running wild
Butterflies and zebras, moonbeams and fairytales
All she ever thinks about is riding with the wind

When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me, free
It's alright, it's alright, she says
Take anything you want from me, anything

Fly, little-wing