Paper planes

Fold the edges, make the corners sharp. A secret message written in the dark. The open porch is my runway tonight. Watching the streetlamps flicker in 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 bridge to my own heaven. Six, five, four, three. You see a scrap, but I see me. It'll be Fine. It'll be fine. The sky is mine. Still I fly. Still I fly.