Hey! look up, condors cut through cracks in time,

Wings stitching up the ripped skyline,

Gravity forgets them. shadow-glide,

Past peaks where silence learns to fly.

Falcons flash, too fast for names,

Words lag back, can’t catch that flame,

Memory slips in the sonic rain,

Yesterday left in a vapor stain.

They rise, they streak, in a sky unsigned,

Blue envelopes torn with no reply,

We watch, we know, for a blink, we float,

Feet off the ground in an almost note.

Sky’s a tease—reach, and it ducks,

All that flex but owns no trust.

We’re airborne, strapped in tight,

And “freedom” echoes through cabin mics.

(Yeah) Flying's not free, nah, it’s leased with lies,

Seatbelt tight, with a dream disguise.

Wings on my brain, world on my chest,

I fly in thought ‘cause the rest’s a test.

Freedom laughs with a static grin,

Sky’s just plastic dressed in wind.

We’re passengers in someone’s dream,

Screamin’ up at a silent screen.

Mind’s the cockpit, flips like jets,

Turbulence made of regrets and bets.

Outside Earth’s skin—it’s mute, it's wide,

Where gravity gave up, truth can hide.

Anchored here by a map and tag,

"Don’t move, don’t stand, don’t lift that flag."

Coordinates bite like ropes unseen,

While the soul’s tryna slip through the in-between.

But inside the head? Anti-grav zone,

Memories float, dreams dethrone,

Scripts rerun with a glitchy beat,

Uncut scenes where the future speaks.

Nobody’s pilot, no callsign,

I orbit thoughtlines in warp-time.

Where rules don’t root and plans combust,

I drift in peace with nothing but trust.

Flyin’ means lettin’ go of names,

No baggage, just invisible flames.

Sky ain't home, it's a ghost of light,

A whisper left from a child’s kite.

So laugh, you fools, at this cosmic joke,

We’re floatin’ in dreams, tied down by hope.

I fly with silence, solo flight,

Into the void where wrong feels right.

Every “where” got a rope around its neck,

Every “when” got a voice yellin’ “check.”

But my mind’s a launchpad, no delay,

Thoughts break orbit while my body stays.

So let ‘em talk while I eclipse,

In my silence, time just slips.

To fly is to vanish and still exist,

Unseen, unowned, in the cosmic mist.

Condor’s flying, falcon’s gone,

One by one, they’re liftin’ on.

The sky—what is it, really?

We’re flying, yet bound by seatbelts.

Funny thing is, no one’s laughing. Strange, isn’t it?

Condor’s flying, falcon’s gone,

One by one, they’re liftin’ on.

The sky—what is it, really?

We’re flying, yet bound by seatbelts.

Funny thing is, no one’s laughing. Strange, isn’t it?