sunday mornıng comın’ down
i can fly in my dreams not like a bird more like a secret the sky keeps for me the night loosens its grip and gravity forgets my name i drift through the dark like a thought too light to hold i hope im not that stoned because this feels like truth slipping through my hands im almost afraid to touch maybe it isnt escape maybe its who i am when the world finally stops pressing its weight on my chest and when morning drags me down again back into streets that remember me i carry a piece of the sky hidden somewhere in my lungs just enough to breathe differently just enough to believe the ground was never mine but sunday morning comin’ down
