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