The Fall
What a feeling it must be,
To fall and tumble and fly so free.
To fling yourself from a rooftop high,
To call your friend and say goodbye.
And beware the man,
dressed in black.
Holding a gun.
His hair slicked back.
He will laugh and smile,
And you'll look out with desperation.
"Falling's like flying,
With a more permanent destination."
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