My baby, she drives a hot air balloon.
It leaks from the bottom,
And my feet get wet when it rains.
My baby walks around barefoot a lot,
She says it feels more natural,
Like a pedestrial vinyl.
She says she gon take me in her arms,
And never let go,
Not until she has to.
Me, imma write her something sweet.
They come like growing string on a kite.
It’ll grow and grow and raise and raise
Until she can’t see my words anymore,
Because I’m worried I’ll do that.
Then she’ll only see me,
Holding onto the few words I have left,
Hoping the wind don’t pick up,
And carry me and my kite away.