Slipping from the edge, I wander along sun-shone landscapes Noticing that there is no better tour Than a drop 26,000 feet above Perceiving the value of perspective More than anything else I've often wondered what lies At the end of falling, If the landing would really hurt And if one will taste the saltness Of one's blood inside the mouth Before pain settles in Like before, I never got to know All I found out is how own's head Throbs when one falls head first From the top of a bunker bed