Gliding high,
Soaring wide.
I've got these wings,
By my side.
I may fly,
Or I may die,
But I'll take a chance to see
The sky.
Feathers ruffled,
I fall silently.
No fear because in the end
I'm going up.
My voice is muffled,
I cry quietly,
Nothing left to defend,
I shrivel up.
It's not a gift,
Not even near.
My feet will lift,
But not my fear.
And who's to tell,
Who is at fault,
When even hell is
Locked in its own vault.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
Gliding high,
Soaring wide.
I've got these wings,
By my side.
I may fly,
Or I may die,
But I'll take a chance to see
The sky.
Feathers ruffled,
I fall silently.
No fear because in the end
I'm going up.
My voice is muffled,
I cry quietly,
Nothing left to defend,
I shrivel up.
It's not a gift,
Not even near.
My feet will lift,
But not my fear.
And who's to tell,
Who is at fault,
When even hell is
Locked in its own vault.
There is no extra benefits to owning these wings, the bad can still out way the good.
