I picked flowers
plucked them clean
ended always with \"not\"
I lost feathers
plucked wings clean
when wounding up with \"not\"

how it was
to dream
about flying
I wish I had forgot

In the cracks we sing
my brethren and I
Calling for elevation
but we get ignored
or worshipped for our misery

Our voices would make your ears bleed

I sit with broken wing
and slowly die
Too far from salvation
lost the hope I stored
before beaten up by destiny

Too alien for understanding was my creed

You want to get down here
to drink the acid rain
but you have no plucked wings
to not be able to fly with
and therefor can not fall
at the right angle

You want to get down here
and share our kind of pain
but you do not carry thorned rings
to bleed your brain and aim with
and therefore can not fall
like a true angel

Presumptious silly simpleton!
Sordid paralyzed people!

It required just the right ending
to make us save you all
one flower without a \"not\"
to keep us from the fall