A man that wished he were a bird, what a sight
But what are dreams for, if not to fly

If I could touch the sky
With the tips of my fingers

To make my hands in the shape of wings
Then I'd hold that day dear to me

I keep a close eye, on this heart of mine
I'm too afraid to know what I might do

Then one day, I strapped on my paper wings
Took a gulp of wine and leaped off my balcony