Birds
As birds soar over the sky really high,
The ceiling bends slightly towards them all,
Their whispers freeze upon our lips quite dry,
For when up there, no one can hear them call.
The ceiling bends towards them all,
As the clouds are cast lower than they seem,
For, when up there, no one can hear them call,
They surge above us, as if in a dream.
As the clouds are cast lower than they seem,
Their whispers freeze upon our lips quite dry,
They surge above us, as if in a dream,
As birds soar over the sky really high.