Sometimes I feel like I am still searching for the sound Looking for constant But I’m just drifting in and out Sometimes I feel like I am just throwing paint A poet without words A song without a bird Sometimes I hold tight When quiet is loud Paper planes and plastic cups It’s never quite enough Hanging on a cloud Just going round and round Voices so close Like the whistling of the wind Holding on tight but I don’t see a way back in Sometimes I feel like I am just throwing paint A poet without words A song without a bird Sometimes I hold tight When quiet is loud Paper planes and plastic cups Its never quite enough Hanging on a cloud Just going round and round