Fly.
Sticks and stones breed broken bones. Your words are my weapons of mass self-destruction. Inch by inch, shattered and scarred, I slink forth from the cave that you carved in to my heart. Part of me yearns to escape, but a bigger part says "no, wait... what if this is it? What if this is fate? Why not just stay here, where you know what to expect?" I mean do disrespect, but a little bird told me to spread my wings and fly way the fuck away from here. And even as I pushed her aside, her determination did NOT subside. "You are beautiful," she said, "You are perfect," I replied. But where I come from, perfect is a concept to which we don't subscribe, an illusionary law by which we ca't abide. It's not fair if you don't fight. And It's not real if you don't try. And it's not love if it doesn't hurt to say goodbye. And I reach up toward the sky, but endlessly, endlessly, endlessly fail to take flight.
But sometimes goodbye is a second chance. I gather the broken bits and ask for one last dance. But you're gone, you've vanished, right into thin air, and I suddenly begin to wonder if you were ever really there. And I suddenly begin to wonder if I should really care. And I suddenly begin to wonder, is this some sort of spell I'm under, my mind, my heart thrown asunder in this perpetual state of wonderlust, wondering if it's love or merely lust, and in the caverns of my mind your voice echoes, "it's just us.... just us.....us."
And it's not fair if you don'y fight. And it's not real if you don't try.
I close my eyes and try to erase you from my mind, and as particles of you slip away suddenly I find I'm no longer bound. A huge weight has been lifted. Freedom found, the force of gravity has shifted. And I hear that little bird say "just spread your wings and fly" And I try, I try, oh my God do I try. Goodbye and I stumble, run away, and I trip, and I think what am I doing wrong? Get it together. Get a grip. I clench my fists, turn my face to the sun, and blast off, so far, far further than the human eye can see.
See, the trick to flying is dodging faster than you fall. If you can manage that, then it's nothing at all. As I blast into space, I become the moon, falling into 0rbit, falling, falling steadily toward the massive ball of confusion that I used to call home, all the while dodging asteroids of insecurity and meteorites of hurt, dodging assumptions, and judgements, and negative self-worth, and the preconcieved notion that you're only what they tell you you're worth. And it's always, always, ALWAYS worth a try, because who are they to tell you you can't fly?
But sometimes goodbye is a second chance. I gather the broken bits and ask for one last dance. But you're gone, you've vanished, right into thin air, and I suddenly begin to wonder if you were ever really there. And I suddenly begin to wonder if I should really care. And I suddenly begin to wonder, is this some sort of spell I'm under, my mind, my heart thrown asunder in this perpetual state of wonderlust, wondering if it's love or merely lust, and in the caverns of my mind your voice echoes, "it's just us.... just us.....us."
And it's not fair if you don'y fight. And it's not real if you don't try.
I close my eyes and try to erase you from my mind, and as particles of you slip away suddenly I find I'm no longer bound. A huge weight has been lifted. Freedom found, the force of gravity has shifted. And I hear that little bird say "just spread your wings and fly" And I try, I try, oh my God do I try. Goodbye and I stumble, run away, and I trip, and I think what am I doing wrong? Get it together. Get a grip. I clench my fists, turn my face to the sun, and blast off, so far, far further than the human eye can see.
See, the trick to flying is dodging faster than you fall. If you can manage that, then it's nothing at all. As I blast into space, I become the moon, falling into 0rbit, falling, falling steadily toward the massive ball of confusion that I used to call home, all the while dodging asteroids of insecurity and meteorites of hurt, dodging assumptions, and judgements, and negative self-worth, and the preconcieved notion that you're only what they tell you you're worth. And it's always, always, ALWAYS worth a try, because who are they to tell you you can't fly?