Dropping at thirty two feet per second per second the terminal velocity comes to mean quite a lot to me.

If I have to hit rock bottom then I hope I've a long way to fall,
I want time to call the bookmaker who will take a bet anti post or anti rock and will get a shock if I collect, then a direct call to him up above to ask just who it was that decided to give poor me a shove, you can't trust anyone except the one that you love.

At thirty two feet in a second I meet the next and it rushes past like a bat out of hell, I never fell, did not fall, I was pushed and I make that clear in the call.

We have to hit and some will bounce, some will not, some will leave a nasty stain, a bruising blot and the chalk outline outlines ****** all,
I also make that clear in the call.

But if I wake before the final take, before the camera crew pack away and the light comes flooding in to pin my eyes to another day someone's sure to push me down, hold me under 'til I drown,
I think I'd rather fall,
that's also clearly stated in the call.