Somewhere out there above the trees, a girl was floating in a breeze. She was carried away and dropped far from town. She couldn't stand up, for she fell too far down. She grew her roots far into the ground. She never flew again for fear of being found.
Somewhere out there above the clouds, there's a world that has never been found. It fell from the stars and now drowns in sound, trapped by screaming winds, unable to get out. The kingdom’s always empty, even when its ruler arrives. The ruler’s empty as well, all hollowed out inside. They wander their dead world, following ghosts of light.
Somewhere out there, maybe far or close by, there is nothing at all, and no one knows why. We find this nothingness, drawn like moths to a flame. But we never remember. Growing up’s the same. Because in our heads, it always stays. Dead worlds, a girl’s broken wings, all locked in a cage. Old versions of us from our formative times. They never leave us until we die.