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