Queen:nI'm made of bones of the branches, the boughs, and the brow-beating lightnOh, my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy highnAnd my fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves and the brightnBrightest shine, it's my shinennAnd he was a baby, abandoned entombed in a cradle of claynAnd I was the soul that took pity and stole him awaynAnd gave him the form of a fawn to inhabit by daynBrightest day, it's my daynnAnd you have removed this temptation that's troubled my innocent childnTo abduct and abuse and to render her rift and defilednBut the river is deep to the banks and the water is wildnBut I will fly you to the far side