Sun on your face, your arms on the horizon
Wind on your dress, tight to your form.
And your senses like déjà vu magic I’ve never known.
But you’re so afraid of the ground below.
I don’t know if I’m falling or flying.
Really doesn’t seem to matter much now.
I turned my back when loved turned away from me.
I went to the hills where no one I knew would be.
And the sun filtered down like whispers through the trees
as if I was somewhere I’d already been.
I don’t know if I’m falling or flying.
It’s too late to matter much now.

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