In This World

Being fed with feathers of dead birds
Dead wings are feeding me with desire to fly
I'm sick of earthness, I'm thinking of thoughts
Which faded away in my mind upon a time

I've got the right to feel myself how I feel
I'm falling asleep flying
In front of my eyes the faces are flashing
That didn't recognize me in this world

There's no space for injuries and doubts
If these are my last thoughts
When all is running faster and faster

Being fed with feathers of died birds
Their cold blood's forcing me to escape
I'm sick of all that isn't sacred
I'd dying flying shot by eternity

In front of my eyes the faces are flashing
That didn't mean anything to me in this world