Quiet Rebellion (Тихое восстание)

Let the rhythm be wide and the logic be thin; I'm living in the spaces where the secrets begin.
It's a choir, a rebellion,
A soft kind of want to be something the world hasn't tasted before.
There is a fire in the fold,
A grace in the strange; I am ink on the page that refuses to change.
My heart beats a post that I wear on my sleeve; I only tell stories that I want to believe.
I'm a bird made of paper,