In the Style of a Tight Rope Walker - Analog Rebellion

you took my hand from the smoking gun

and held me like a son

in light of all i said i’d do

you placed me in a cell

i’d do the same if i were you

honest as a priest

i held my face up to the sky

in the style of a tight rope walker

i spread my arms and tried to glide

in honour of a failed semester

i picked my life up piece by piece

in the style of an awful metaphor

i took a step to silence you

what else could you possibly do?

i held my face up to the sky

i practiced all my silly lies