Her children sleep, the moments creep away In stale rooms, with diesel fume malaise The sirens and lights, they pierced the night Stirring up a sleeping appetite When Katie spoke, of crimson smoke and wings The meadowlarks, in ghetto parks would sing The melody would echo through the air And travel through the window to her chair In old shoes, the same views The gravity of life to weigh her down In gray dreams, the sky seems Larger than it was, or is it because She lost her wings She can't recall, her steady fall from grace But she was down, on solid ground to stay And somewhere in the journey she found peace In trading all the dreams for guarantees The sycamore is there no more to climb But still she dreams, of quiet streams and flying