Don't worry about who owns the sky;
the birds will still be there tomorrow.
Not everyone was meant to fly,
though God made us all a little hollow.
Don't trouble yourself by asking why;
the truth is far too hard to swallow.
When we're living just to die,
our happiness is something borrowed.
The sun is bleeding over the horizon,
and the clouds are soaking in its pain.
It ain't easy taking all these lies in,
but I guess that's the price of rain.
The rain will come
to wash it all away.
Until then
it's just another day.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Don't worry about who owns the sky;
the birds will still be there tomorrow.
Not everyone was meant to fly,
though God made us all a little hollow.
Don't trouble yourself by asking why;
the truth is far too hard to swallow.
When we're living just to die,
our happiness is something borrowed.
The sun is bleeding over the horizon,
and the clouds are soaking in its pain.
It ain't easy taking all these lies in,
but I guess that's the price of rain.
The rain will come
to wash it all away.
Until then
it's just another day.
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