Hang gliders
from day to-night
dangling from the stars
from night to snow
crawling fear of loss climbs up their legs
sadistic heat tries their sides too high to stop and fly
from hell to now
from now to the landing
they said it would be easy- two hands on the wheel
flow go from gold post and a Jumper like Hayden
changed the world in an evening- one hand and a cold feeling
they said it would be easy- lost sight of the pad
one map and fried pen
need to go home, on tour with endless shows
endless loops- they said
same map and sinking blimps
it would be easy
if the landing pad stayed still.
Saint's Muse 