Cold wind bites through the cotton thread.
Iron beams paint the morning red.
Dead leaves spin on the concrete floor.
Rust is locking the ticket door.
Ten feet up where the air is thin.
Let the steady balance begin.
Count the paces from here to there.
Floating light in the autumn glare.
I am walking on a silver thread.
Moving slow where the ghosts have fled.
High above where the sleepers lie.
Cutting holes in a heavy sky.
Ferris wheel is a frozen ghost.
Wooden planks on a rotting post.
Cotton candy is gone from the stand.
Empty grip in a shaking hand.
I am walking on a silver thread.
Moving slow where the ghosts have fled.
High above where the sleepers lie.
Cutting holes in a heavy sky.
The cable hums a low deep sound.
I forgot how to touch the ground.
Pull the breath from the bottom deep.
While the city is fast asleep.
Check the tension and feel the sway.
Gold and orange the end of day.
Steel is singing a lonely song.
This is where I have always belonged.
One more footfall to reach the edge.
Standing firm on a narrow ledge.
Look below at the empty park.
Waiting here for the coming dark.
I am walking on a silver thread.
Moving slow where the ghosts have fled.
High above where the sleepers lie.
Cutting holes in a heavy sky.
One step, two step, hold the line.
Everything is finally fine.
