how can i fly
with my wings nailed to this rusted rooftop
hand me the knife

i'm slicing feathers to free myself
falling
on broken wings and broken dreams

falling
the ground is closer than it seems


pull me off this burning asphault
until
only the outline...

only the outline remains

for me to die

would take much more than seven stories
but as i lie
here bleeding...giving up feels warming


dont we all feel safe
in the arms of a falling angel


only the outline remains