Baby, I've been walking on your tight-rope
for far too long now.
Teetering on the edge of lunacy,
in hopes of a different finale.
But we both know how this show always ends.
Broken dreams, better than broken bones.
Then again, who really needs them
when they're used up and frail,
hollowed from our heart-shaped acrobatics.
One foot, in front of the other.
My shaky legs beg for your attention,
longing for the chance to be your main attraction.
I'm up in the air, back and forth.
Plastered smiles to fool the crowds.
But you're far too grounded.
Doing the same things over
one hundred and forty three times,
waiting for a different conclusion.
We're the dictionary-definition of insanity.
You'd think it would have gotten old after a decade.
But the 'end' draws near again, it always does.
My chest flutters and I free-fall,
blinded by the faith of your outstretched arms.
But I can't help but wonder, darling...
will you always be there to catch me?