Pride is the colour of my shirt.

This can't be luck, it must fate,
to feel so high and feel so great.
To see the world from all the clouds,
to know the world inside and out.
My heart's somewhere in my throat
i cannot sing a single note.
My stomach has dropped 6 feet down
but the butterflies still float around.
How can that be?
How is it so?
Someone tell me, i must know.
When you look at me i fumble with my thoughts.
It's such a shame, they're all I've got.
I'll never claim that they're worth all the ocean's treasures
it simply isn't true.
They ain't worth air, they ain't worth dirt or the sky's
sweet tint of blue.
You can have them, mold them, cut and paste.
Whatever suits your fancy taste.
I won't feel bad if you throw them out.
I won't scream or even shout.
In fact if you did I'd think some more.
Or if I can't, I'll go explore
By the way, brace your hands.
Mine are colder than Greenland.
So here i am, live and loud.
So in love with you
and proud.

:)