You know that feeling when a snare drum hit sounds like a gunshot in a dark room? That’s 1985. It’s the year Mr. Mister dropped "Broken Wings," and honestly, radio has never quite been the same since. Everyone remembers the bassline. It’s moody. It’s pulsing. But when Richard Page starts singing the lyrics take these broken wings and learn to fly again, it’s not just a pop hook. It’s something deeper, borrowed from the pages of Lebanese-American poet Kahlil Gibran.
Most people think it’s just another cheesy eighties power ballad. They’re wrong.
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The Gibran Connection Nobody Talks About
While the rest of the Billboard charts were obsessed with neon lights and digital synthesizers, Richard Page, Steve George, and lyricist John Lang were reading 1912 literature. Specifically, they were looking at Gibran’s book The Broken Wings. If you’ve never read it, it’s a tragic tale of a love that can’t be because of social conventions and religious restrictions. It’s heavy stuff for a band that shared stages with Tina Turner and the Eurythmics.
The lyrics take these broken wings actually serve as a direct nod to Gibran’s themes of spiritual resurrection. Lang, who was the band’s primary lyricist but not an onstage member, was obsessed with Gibran’s "The Prophet" and other works. He wanted to write something that felt universal. He wasn't trying to write a hit; he was trying to write a prayer.
The opening line "Kyrie Eleison" in their other massive hit often gets confused with this track, but "Broken Wings" is the one that really anchors their philosophical bent. It’s a song about the "Book of Love" and how we’re all just trying to find a way to edit the chapters that hurt.
Why the Lyrics Take These Broken Wings Became an Anthem of Recovery
If you look at the mid-eighties, the world was a mess. Cold War anxiety was peaking. The famine in Ethiopia was on every TV screen via Live Aid. Amidst all that global noise, a song about personal repair hit a nerve.
Take a look at the second verse. "Think of the hope that was lost and at last was found." It’s a very specific kind of optimistic melancholy. Most pop songs choose one or the other. You’re either happy or you’re sad. Mr. Mister decided to live in the middle.
The song isn't saying you’re fixed. It’s saying you’re broken, but you’re still functional.
A Quick Breakdown of the Verse Structure
The song follows a standard verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus-outro pattern, but the way the words are metered is strange for pop.
- The Verse: Tight, whispered, almost conspiratorial.
- The Chorus: Huge, expansive, meant for stadiums.
- The Outro: A long, fading repetition that feels like a mantra.
The repetition of the line "learn to fly again" is the key. It’s not "you will fly." It’s "learn." It implies work. It implies a process. That’s why you hear this song in every rehab center, every graduation ceremony, and every movie scene where a protagonist is staring at a rainy window. It’s the soundtrack to the "get back up" moment.
The Paul McCartney "Blackbird" Comparison
People often ask if Mr. Mister stole the line from The Beatles. Short answer: no. Long answer: sort of.
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Paul McCartney’s "Blackbird" famously uses the phrase "Take these broken wings and learn to fly." McCartney was writing about the Civil Rights movement in the American South. He was using the bird as a metaphor for the struggle for equality.
Mr. Mister used the same imagery, but they pivoted to a more internal, psychological struggle. Is it a coincidence? Not really. Both were tapping into a linguistic archetype that has existed in English literature for centuries. The bird with a clipped wing is the ultimate symbol of stunted potential.
When the lyrics take these broken wings are sung by Richard Page, the context is romantic and spiritual. When McCartney sings them, they are political. It’s a testament to the phrase's power that it can hold both weights without snapping.
The Production Magic That Made the Words Work
You can’t talk about the lyrics without talking about that delay on the bass. Pat Mastelotto’s drumming is incredibly disciplined here. He stays out of the way of the message.
If the production had been too busy—too much hair-metal shredding or too many bright horns—the gravity of the words would have been lost. Instead, they went with a "weathered" sound. The atmosphere is thick. It feels like 4:00 AM in a city that’s just stopped raining.
Richard Page’s vocal performance is also surprisingly restrained. He’s a world-class session singer (he even turned down offers to join Chicago and Toto). He could have over-sung this. He could have done the eighties "power growl." Instead, he keeps it soulful and steady. This allows the listener to project their own "brokenness" onto the song.
Misheard Lyrics and Cultural Impact
Let’s be honest, half of us thought he was saying something else during the bridge. "In the book of love, we are scattered in the pages." For years, people thought it was "scared of the pages" or "skating on the pages."
The "Book of Love" is a trope as old as time, used by everyone from The Monotones to Peter Gabriel. But in the context of "Broken Wings," it feels less like a diary and more like a ledger. It’s a record of mistakes.
The song reached Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in December 1985. It stayed there for two weeks. But its life in the 1990s and 2000s is what’s really interesting. It was sampled by Tupac Shakur in "Until the End of Time." It appeared in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. It has become a permanent fixture of "Yacht Rock" playlists, even though it’s arguably a bit too dark for that label.
The Philosophical Weight of "Flying Again"
Is it actually possible to "learn to fly again"? That’s the question the song leaves hanging.
The bridge says, "I'll take the time to make it right." This is the core of the lyrics take these broken wings. It’s an admission of fault. In a decade known for excess and ego, Mr. Mister was singing about humility.
What You Can Take Away From the Song Today
If you’re listening to this song for more than just 80s nostalgia, there’s a real blueprint for resilience in the writing.
- Acknowledge the damage. You can't fix the wing if you don't admit it's broken.
- Look for the ancient wisdom. Whether it’s Gibran or a Beatles callback, your problems aren’t new.
- Accept the process. "Learning" to fly is a slow, messy ordeal.
- Find the "Book of Love." Focus on the connections that actually matter rather than the "hope that was lost."
The legacy of "Broken Wings" isn't its chart position. It’s the fact that when it comes on the radio today, people don't just change the station. They turn it up. They wait for that bass intro. They prepare for that chorus.
It’s a rare piece of pop music that manages to be both a product of its time and completely outside of it.
To truly appreciate the song, listen to the full album version rather than the radio edit. The extra minute of atmospheric intro sets the stage for the lyrical journey. You can also look up the 2010 acoustic version by Richard Page, which strips away the 80s gloss and shows just how sturdy the songwriting actually is.
Next time you hear those opening notes, don't just hum along. Think about the "broken wings" you're carrying. The song suggests you might just be able to do something with them.