Low Slow

Out from the tunnel you walk
 All with rungs of bulbs surrounding you like golden laurels
 You chalk your hands and you clap clouds, mm
 You move deliberately
 All smooth and deep are your steps to the stairs
 Lend impossible cares as you stand and wait
 For the glare to fade
 But I'm already poison-leaden
 Line with finery the wire you walk
 The wire you walk
 All in war-paint, the audience is patient
 So they can say that they were the day you took your spill
 And the nets escape
 The fastest way
 But the best of them
 Is the last of them
 Their woolen suits are lined with fruit for you
 But they never said that it ain't for you alone
 So I say you should just grace them with your old fantastic, oh
 Amaze them with your old fantastic, oh
 And brace yourself and fall into the air, oh, ooh, oh, ooh, oh