Flying through the atmosphere,
One would start to think.
That soaring high with out a mask,
would put you on the brink.

For flying high or falling low,
or spinning slow and fast,
The ecstacy of such a rush,
doesn't seem to last.

With landing hard right on your pride,
and looking at the bruise,
Sometimes people ask themselves
if the rush was worth thee abuse.

For as we look to the sky,
With our feet on the ground,
and gaze at the stars in our eyes.
We wonder if such a feeling,
Could lead to our own demise.

So when your standing up on high,
Hands locked on the rail.
The thing you have to commit to yourself,
'Now is the time to bail'

Jump