Sometimes I lie awake, wondering if I'll make it out of here,
but the wind blows round my heels, so I stay -
I remember lying there, wishing I could be someone else
trying to find somehow to get away.
If I asked him nicely d'you think he'd show me how to fly,
'Cos the dust has weighed my wings down, and I'm too tired to try.
Sometimes I sit here hearing voices in my head -
I try to understand, to make some sense.
I wonder, if I had to, would I lie to save myself?
A plea of guilty, but self defence.
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