I learnt to fly,
I learnt to cry.
On my journey through my heart and soul.
You can look up,
or you can look down,
when floating left and right on a soft and searching cloud.
You can stand around,
or you can stand between,
as you coast over and under your guilty and grateful shrouds.
Would you rather be blinded or bound,
sightless or certain,
in or out,
of control.