He raised his hand,
for the last time she could stand
that room was a grave at night
she left a note that said I'm not coming home,
he took courage but she took flight,
what are you really holding onto?
life is a tightrope and you're burning burning burning both ends
you don't always move the way you'd like to
but don't let the ground drag you around
and these old wings,
they've been a long time, been a long time coming,
these old wings
they just gotta be good for something
burn these strings
so I can see what these old broken things
what these old wings can do
she sold the car for eleven hundred bucks
and bought a bottle of something sweet,
she caught a train and counted seven stops
and got off when she felt free
if these old wings can fly, fly, fly
old wings.
she found herself where people go in gloom
for friends that are buried there
she wrote a note to God on a balloon,
and watched as it disappeared.