John draws a plan in the sand
Two more to find, one's in hand
Heat of the sun makes him sleepy
Gotta make a run before it closes in
Cuz a princess knows to wear a beggar's clothes
When she's selling from a street cart rose by rose

John eyes the sun, checks his arm
Two hours left, while it's warm
Miles and miles of ribboned highway
And a growing pile of bottles on the floor
The voice he hears ringing in his ears
Keeps getting louder beer by beer

What made him tell her he could do it
Was it just so he could prove a point
Or did he even have a point at all?
And now that he's in it
Is he really gonna get himself back out
Shit happens
Fear is elemental and pain is incidental after all
Like the throbbing in his temple
And the sweat upon his brow

John palms the stone, feels its heft
Good, that makes two, just one left
But the sun's gone down and he's in pieces
Because he feels the cold, clammy on his skin
And if man could fly then falling from the sky
Wouldn't feel like falling in John's eyes

If a man could fly falling from the sky
Wouldn't feel like falling in John's eyes

Yeah, if man could fly then falling from the sky
Wouldn't feel like falling

--
©2007, Charlie Cheney