I'm sitting on my wings
and wondering why I can't fly.
Is there a doctor I can speak to
that'll diagnose my desire to die?

Do you know what it's like
to make believe all the time?
Do you know what it's like
to be stuck between death and flight?

I look up to the sky so blue
and see birds flying like I'm supposed to.
What am I doing wrong?
I raise my arms up, always reaching

for a helping hand
yet they slap it with glee.
I'm not here to cheer though I'm
proud can someone give me a boost.

I think I've got my
wings free.
I'll flap them to this
frantic beat.

Where did everyone go?
I'm not sure I know.
The rest of them flew here.
How am I alone again?
Grounded in the air.

I'm sitting on my wings
they're pins and needles not downy feathers.
They push into every single nerve
each time I try to fly.

Do you know what it's like
to make believe all the time?
Do you know what it's like
to be stuck between death and flight?