I am flying high on a pair of wings that aren't mine
They're borrowed, bent, and a bit broken
But they carry me to places no one can see
Where I can be alone, at home, and ******
If you must then rip them from my back
Because all good things must end but may still begin again
Maybe someday I'll grow my own and let my true colors be shown
These wings they comfort me as they carry me over all that I can see
But I'm sure if I could just grow my own I could fly beyond all that I know