Raindrops think they are flying until they hit the ground
Soaring like an eagle, oddly in love with the feeling of going down
But hitting bottom is like no other disappointment
When morning comes you will realize
You were not flying at all, you were descending
Sliding down a rope of oxygen and demolishing at the impact
The concrete will never feel so cold
And you will wonder why you let him slip into your sheets
Keeping you warm, soaking yourself into him like wet cement
Only until he climbs out
And you will have to act as if it were only a change in weather
A punchline that you saw coming
Do not look eager to hold him again, if he felt the same
He wouldn't have gotten up in the first place
I am only a raindrop
I used to think I could fly until morning hit
Sobriety found its way in and the hangover was nothing like this emptiness
I have hit the ground and now I am only hoping to evaporate again
And fall into every piece of air that you blew into me