Текст песни Falling Up - Will Wood

Your stratospheric fear of catastrophe's near
Fast, it's here
Atmosphere past your ears, fall, but you'll never land
Second star to the right

I'm gripping the grass, and I'm pulling up daisies
Thank matter for mass and the comfort of gravity
Airplane eclipses over spirals of math
Would, or could, the impact kill me?
Yes, yes, yes
No, no, no, no, no

It's just the high-noon moon saying, "Shoot for the stars
Be the next big constellation, connect the dots between your parts"

Dandelion seeds yet to ride on the breeze
You make a wish upon the dead, but turn and call it a weed
Only plastic flowers never die

With the bones of a crow and ambitions of candle wax
What do you know of control?
The wind is simply at your back
It really seems pollen's more clever than bees
So you cue the final words of Leary
And cry "Why, why, why, why not, why not, why not?"
I'd rather be a hot air Hindenburg
Than an elephant tied right down to its stake

Cut ties, shed the dead weight
I ain't saying it's fate
But there are no mistakes, and

Dandelion seeds yet to ride on the breeze
You make a wish upon the dead, but turn and call it a weed
Only plastic flowers never die

Well, I cry on skies of blue linoleum
Clouds of spilled milk, but am I the cup?
Here comes the sun, am I falling up?
Falling up
Here comes the sun, am I falling up?

Disney-Pixar Ludovico, Shirley Temple maraschino
Hotel rooms of Motley Crüe, Broadway producer improve troupes
Ray-Bans in your living room, eye line hurts to be in view like
Stage fright only when it's karaoke night with friends, leave early
Did I earn this stupid hat?
Is now really a good time for a new tattoo?
Oh, is now really a good time for a new tattoo?

The larger they are
The harder they tend to fall
Much larger than life, 'cause from such height
Life looks awful small

And dandelions grow in dirt
Magic mushrooms grow in piles of bullshit
I grew up in suburbia
Love us or hate us
Pick us, you're killing us, and

Dandelion seeds yet to ride on the breeze
You make a wish upon the dead, but turn and call it a weed
Only plastic flowers never die

Well, I cry on skies of blue linoleum
Clouds of spilled milk, but am I the cup?
Here comes the sun, am I falling up?
Falling up

(Dandelion seeds yet to ride on the breeze)
(You make a wish upon the dead, but turn and call it a weed)
Here comes the sun, am I falling up?
Falling up
(Dandelion seeds yet to ride on the breeze)
(You make a wish upon the dead, but turn and call it a weed)
Here comes the sun, am I falling up?

Did I earn this stupid hat?
Is now really a good time for a new tattoo?
Oh, is now really a good time for a new tattoo?

Your stratospheric fear of catastrophe's near, fast it's here
Atmosphere past your ears fall, but you'll never land
Second star to the right
And straight on 'til you die