Falling from the eighteenth floor I passed a sly caucasian whore She said to me "What shall it be?" And I replied, quite honestly "What's the matter if we're dying?" To this she answered "Aren't we flying?" I left her thus and shook my head Sure that we should soon be dead Falling, windows blurring past I met an archer dropping fast He said his say and strung his bow "So swift and fleet!" "Art thou mine foe?" To him I wondered "Can't you see?" "The waste in all this archery?" He looked quite angry as I flew I turned and bid one last adieu Quite uncertain of their plight I whistled by an Irish fight They looked at me and started jeering "Wha ya want Wit all tha leerin'?" I asked so calm "Why not look down?" "You're all about to fight the ground" They paced about, so sure they'd win I hurried on and quit that din Floating in my endless space I came upon a baby race Worried mother's clambered, calling "Son, I'll stand For no such bawling" Out I shouted "Be more caring!" "An equal fate you'll all be sharing!" The teary-eyed just watched me go I fell with incensed moms in tow And still I fall for far too long Meeting minds who make me strong I fall with little understanding Of the impact of my landing When all above And all below Have touched the earth And felt it flow They might get up, decide to live To learn again what falling gives