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From my plane I see people far and distant from me.

They are like me but the higher I climb

the more I’m separated, withdrawn into my own little world.

Obstacles in my way, quick pull up!

Or I’ll crash headlong into them and destroy

my plane and die myself.

Just like real life, walk down the wrong street,

sleep with the wrong girl, choose the wrong job.

Each could end in a death sentence

with a black void that is your tomb.

I circle my plane now, watching.

There is no rush, where next in life?

What direction shall I fly?

fly in skyfreedom abovemy world

◄ Cyanide Footsteps, Arsenic Touch



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