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