I flamed out over Blackheath,
fell into a blue funk
fizzled down to earth,
sunk into depression and
learn't a valuable lesson.

Don't fly to high with your wings on fire.

The president of the residents committee took pity,
pointed the way into Emerald City
and me with no brain thanked him all the same
and went on my way.

Flame on and back on song with a fire in my heart,
Blackheath became the part of a story told to
fire eaters and juggling the truth just a bit
I lit the highlights with sights I had seen.

The wizard who was
was a master of verse and
could curse like a trooper,
never believed a word that he heard and
relied on his eyes which were failing though green with the light of the madness of night and with lips that could curl strands of hair stood there in the marquee full of wizardry and laughed at me.

Don't fly a kite full of lies when the wizard's eyes are on you,
falling through again, flame off and feeling blue again
I do the same again
and drop.