Heard the letter fall into the mailbox at dawn
Saw the tire tracks and knew that you’d already gone
Gazed upon the envelope stamped twice with a loon
Ripped open the wax that held a tent under the waning moon
Tightrope Walker
Tightrope Walker
You are young
And you won’t be getting younger
Heard the phone screaming like a flame unto a moth
Waited til the last ring
I know that ticks you off
Loneliness is brimming
A cold glass of grenadine
You said, “called to see if you would join the circus tonight
come with me
I know that was always your dream”
Tightrope Walker
Tightrope Walker
You are young
And you won’t be getting younger
No
No no
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