The future is bleak,
I’m sick and starting to see,
This room beyond my feet;
Anchored here, as I’m fighting disease.

Most days I just don’t care,
About this world we try to save…
I know there’s still my fear;
I know there’s some island to roam,
And it’s called my home.

This bird will fly away, away,
When there is naught to play.
Past the sun, across this sea,
Finding its home inside my dream.
Don’t ask it when; it stop and stares.
It destined, oh no…
Don’t ask it when, its been playing this whole day
And don’t ask it for plans, for it’s a little hard.

‘Day’s the day,
I’ll spread my wings and fly so far away.
Past my reason why;
It’s just my fear of flight
Just my fears…

And don’t ask it for plans, oh no…
For it, it’s a little bit more than hard.