Once standing under the bright, full moon,
I tied myself to a balloon,
And as I continue to disappear,
I become lighter as heaven draws near,
This beautiful place, above me it waits,
But I am so weak, I cannot open it's gates.
In the back of my mind, I've heard that it's known,
That sometimes these gates open on their own,
And if by chance, this is just a myth,
I've brought my sharpened objects with,
If the gates aren't opening anytime soon,
I'll pull out the blade and pop the balloon.
Getting lighter, floating higher,
They don't know I'm a liar.
Not broken, but cracked,
I'm barely intact,
Almost through with the great disappearing act.
I'm up above the clouds with no fear,
A thousand feet high in the atmosphere,
Sometimes in clouds, my eyes blur from the haze,
I keep the scissors in hand on those days,
I try too keep from looking down below,
From trying to miss all I'll ever know.
As I feel I'm getting near to the top,
I feel what strength I have left beginning to stop,
The pain is unbearable and hard to contain,
Thinking so hard about what I tried to attain,
Slipping, loosing grip, don't know how much time,
Till I'll finally slip and reverse my long climb.
Getting lower, falling faster,
They don't know I'm a disaster,
Now broken, and cracked,
I'm no longer intact,
Finally through with the Great Disappearing Act.
