Margaret Atwood - Owl Song lyrics

I am the heart of a murdered woman
Who took the wrong way home
Who was strangled in a vacant
Lot and not buried
Who was shot with care beneath a tree
Who was mutilated by a crisp knife
There are many of us

I grew feathers and tore my way out of her
I am shaped like a feathered heart
My mouth is a chisel, my hands
The crimes done by hands

I sit in the forest talking of death
Which is monotonous:
Though there are many ways of dying
There is only one death song
The colour of mist: It says Why Why

I do not want revenge, I
Do not want expiation
I only want to ask someone how I was lost
How I was lost

I am the lost heart of a murderer
Who has not yet killed
Who does not yet know he wishes
To kill who is still the same as the others

I am looking for him
He will have answers for me

He will watch his step, he will be
Cautious and violent, my claws
Will grow through his hands
And become claws, he will not be caught