Paper Planes Наташка Дьякова

Fold the edges, make the corners sharp
A secret message, written in the dark
The open porch is my runway tonight
Watching the streetlamps' flickering light
They say it’s just paper, it’s bound to fall
That gravity doesn't have a heart at all

High, low, fast or slow
Watch where the whispers go
Over the fence where the shadows grow
Further than anyone I know
Left, right, out of sight
Chasing the ghosts of the night
Higher than any ceiling or stone
I’m flying a path of my own

Ink on my fingers, a tear in the wing
I don't need a motor, I don't need a thing
You laugh at the distance, you count every crash
But I see the heavens in every small dash
Each crumpled failure is a step to the sky
I don't need a reason to try and to fly

High, low, fast or slow
Watch where the whispers go
Over the fence where the shadows grow
Further than anyone I know
Left, right, out of sight
Chasing the ghosts of the night
Higher than any ceiling or stone
I’m flying a path of my own

Ten, nine, eight, seven
A paper to my own heaven
Six, five, four, three
You see a scrap, but I see me

It’ll be fine
It’ll be fine
This sky is mine
Still I fly
Still I fly