---

For so long, I've been standing,
three inches away from the edge.
Taking the sharpest breath,
I looked down on the grass sprouting
on the roughest of the cliff.

What'll be the life down there?

The breeze slaps me
with the best
of the harshest reality.
Yelling my beloved battle cry,
December's theorems
became the clarity.

I hold you in my freezing hands;
shaking and inhaling
the coldest fact.
You're made of wooden warmth,
yet you keep on growing
ice so intact.

If and only if you'll come
rushing back to me,
I'll throw you into the wide space.
They ask me why.
I'll tell you why.

With a cradle grip,
you spin me around
like nobody else.

Accidentally, I'm out of my head,
and I'd thrown you
against the breeze.
May I pretend
you're still here with me?

Suddenly, we're out of balance,
and you'd thrown me
into others' arms.
May I pretend
you're the one holding me?

Unknowingly, they dodged my glance,
and they threw me
back to you.
And in the end,
I still keep coming back to you.

But you're already taking the path
I refused in taking.

You're already moving on.

You're already miles away
from me.

You're not happy with the thought
you'll sandwich catch me...

'cause you're hovering,
while I'm diving.

---