Sometimes, it’s as if I’m flying sky high,
and nothing can bother me.
It’s as if I’ve finally reached the stars,
and nothing can touch me.
It’s like getting a grasp on everything,
and nothing can defeat me.
Then wings get ripped, each feather plucked out,
slowly and ever-so painfully;
I fall, trying so hard to flap useless arms to get back up,
but it’s no use,
The end is inevitable,
this plane’s going down.