People write about flying
Like if we'd grow wings we'd be free
But then we'd complain about
How low you must float to breathe
We'd curse the universe
For building itself so selfishly
We would curse the gods who thought it
And the atoms who agreed
We'd find faster ways to travel
Our wings wouldn't be enough
We'd each learn to work a private jet
So that we could rise above
A silly little thing like pressure
With a crazy little self control
To find comfort in our bodies
That our minds could never outgrow
But here we are - we're just people
Never content with who we are
Always wanting to be immortal
Not thankful for our hearts
Truth is, if we turned into birds
With human heads and human minds
We couldn't keep our hands
Cause we don't need them to fly
Now our machines are useless
We're back to our primitive selves
We can't even hold our money
As the wind brings it back to hell
Our bones would be too light
To continue the work that we once did
We'd have to re-learn our purpose
We'd have to re-learn how to live
And maybe in the process
When we were soaring above the world
We'd realize in that silent way
We never knew how to live at all