Tripping toward the earth
I hear the thunder
Snapping through my joints
Oh, to be free
Oh, to be able to fall
Singeing my ring finger
I feel pinks and reds bloom
Blistering my chapped skin
Oh, to be free
Oh, to be able to burn
Bumping a funny bone
I see blemished skin weep
Nostalgic for its pale, un-blued past
Oh, to be free
Oh, to be able to bruise
Experiencing pain
I outlive the rest
Promising not immunity, but balance
Oh, to be free
Oh, to breathe despite it all
