It doesn’t matter til it does
The matter of the stars and the matter of the mud
What’s the matter with the dust
It glows in the sun but it’s dark in my lungs

Feathers for war or fun
They fall from the sky and they fall when I run
Taking hits from the sun
Following the moon til my feet say I’m done

I’m made of metal that bends
You could get to see the snap that happens at the end
Too expensive to pretend
That too many ifs don’t require a when