White pulp skin on a concrete floor
Last train gone through the sliding door
Salty grit on a paper crease
Waiting here for a moment of peace
Hold your breath in the heavy damp
Underneath the flickering lamp
Folded white wing in a hollow place
Staring back at a stranger's face
Like a seed in the dark black loam
Looking for a way back home
Rooted deep in the subway grime
Counting beats in a rhythmic time
Hold your breath in the heavy damp
Underneath the flickering lamp
Folded white wing in a hollow place
Staring back at a stranger's face
Calathea leaves in a humid room
Paper planes in a concrete tomb
Wait for water to wake the vein
Wait for wind to break through the rain
Hold your breath in the heavy damp
Underneath the flickering lamp
Folded white wing in a hollow place
Staring back at a stranger's face
Steel rails humming a low blue song
This is where the forgotten belong
No more flight and no more high sky
Just the soot where the cold winds lie
Sown in ink from a child's small hand
Stranded far from the grassy land
Let the soil of the city hold
Something white and something bold
Hold your breath in the heavy damp
Underneath the flickering lamp
Folded white wing in a hollow place
Staring back at a stranger's face
Settle down in the heavy grey.
Wait for light of a brand new day.
Stay still, white wing.
Stay still.
