But were it not for blood and bones,
I could call you mine, my dear.
In a different place, I could call you my own.

I could give you more than you have known.
You wouldn’t have any cause for fear.
Oh but it were not for blood and bones...

I’ve watched these years, how you have grown!
Yes, I have watched and wanted years.
In a different place, I could call you my own.

Though other men could’ve flown,
And found a path with you so clear.
…But were it not for blood and bones…

I wish my heart was made of stone,
As I stand here, watching, so far and near.
In a different place, I could call you my own.

As seraphs do, I continue alone,
Suffering my obligation queer.
But were it not for blood and bones,
In a different place, I could call you my own.