I landed on a brick red street
Where urban dirt and clover meet
Beside a root of Acer rubrum
I wait here for a sudden humdrum
My white fold starts to tear apart
A jagged line across my heart
The autumn wind begins to blow
I have no further place to go
I am just a paper wing drift
Feeling every seasonal shift
Torn away from a small child's hand
Sinking deep in the city sand
The soil is dark and rich and cold
My cellulose is losing hold
A tiny seed of Acer platanus
Watches me from a green hiatus
My white fold starts to tear apart
A jagged line across my heart
The autumn wind begins to blow
I have no further place to go
I am just a paper wing drift
Feeling every seasonal shift
Torn away from a small child's hand
Sinking deep in the city sand
A heavy boot comes crashing down
The loudest noise in this old town
But then a hand reaches for the floor
I am not lonely anymore
Syllable by syllable I break
A little piece for the earth to take
From a folded plane to a flat sheet
I find my peace on a Boston street
I am just a paper wing drift
Feeling every seasonal shift
Torn away from a small child's hand
Sinking deep in the city sand
The botanist knows how I feel
The cycle of the earth is real
I blend into the fallen leaf
A sudden end to a paper grief
I am just a paper wing drift
Feeling every seasonal shift
Torn away from a small child's hand
Sinking deep in the city sand
Sinking deep in the city sand
Just a drift in a steady hand
Paper wing drift
Paper wing drift
