Airborne Self.
• Written by Kalligraphy
Kalligraphy's Notes
Concept 1: This is written from the perspective of an airplane window that is boasted because he can be seen through to see cities from above from airplanes, but not the windows in the airport, those are ignored. So at the end, all the greed and glory caught up to the airplane window and he ended up shutting himself forever. Concept 2: the airplane window is a metaphor for a big artist, an industry plant, a big major label signing, the airport window is the underground artist not yet blown up or given its flowers. The gimmick ends up killing his own career for the smaller artist. Con3: racism.
This song was forged when I was surfing the clouds
My eyes record unfortunate fake smiles aroused
During the miles riding above water layers I found
Windows don’t sound, they see what’s all around
The visions and precisions of screens and human pounds
They see us rise while they reside on the ground
I feel my mind tryna dial sympathy but I’m to proud
To be with the flesh in symphonies in the clouds
Oh prisoner, captured, led without scripture
Money and peace, wars and literature
Fillers and killers, poets and moets
Don’t seek freedom and then throw it
I remember it was cloudy and the ones below looked up
And saw me, my eyes felt struck with me being corrupt
But, was it me who decided I would be up?
Or was it my destiny and fate that set this all up?
I see their strafes, wrestling with my fame and stuff
They say the game is all fluff and they bury the crunch
I waved at one before I took off to a different place
He gave me a frayed face in which scared me straight
My own ways since I was young and just paved
Realize they get minced and never cease a look
But when they board, they stare at me like a book
Oh prisoner, captured, led without scripture
Money and peace, wars and literature
Fillers and killers, poets and moets
Don’t seek freedom and then throw it
I hit the ground once again and felt inferior
We’re both castles of sand but I’m made superior
I took a breath and pondered on those words
Were the same element, the minerals and curves
Society painted us high cuz we flew, it’s a sickness
They been dragged to the floor and we didn’t see our wickedness
That’s cultural viciousness, unscripted, hypocrites
Unfinished and diminished, not replenished but bit
Mhm mmmm mhmmm
The palace of bones and skin coded in their anatomy
Crawls to my seat where I lay closed before they catch me
But it was a little kid, who then bawled and weeped
When I jammed the cover of me so he couldn’t open thee
He cried and tried, the stewardess yanked and seethed
But they couldn’t get me open, I’m tired of my greed
I’m tired of me being everything in front of what they see
They wired me to be open, bragging and free
But I knew it’s uninspired when they’re dragging by their feet
So I broke myself, took away my pride
My mind, suicide
