Cause little wings
can't fly, they break off
when we're young, and the
dirt kicks up when we're old,
decaying in the black of night
it almost feels right, to fall freely
into the white, is what we were
told, but I'm still spinning, around
we go, catching the objects thrown
at us, it doesn't mean we're alright,
if we don't get crushed, step in front
face every demon and don't let them
swallow, the you you've become,
there's too much spit in the air,
you're tired of feeling it rain on
you and once you reach mediocre,
it still isn't enough for the crown,
so there's a yesterday that's crushed
your tomorrows, and all this time
we've been trying to escape that
blow, just to be blown out of the
water to still drown, not enough
to reach perfection, not enough
to repair torn wings, but enough
to have had enough, and finish
in a different way, than we
started.