by Carson Reynolds

Usually, I get annoyed when lyricists use the same word to make a rhyme. But then sometimes it is done so deftly as to excuse the repetition:

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

D. H. Lawrence ‘Self-Pity’ Pansies: Poems (1929)