I have the image of you stood over a fast-running river stuck in my head.

You're right on the edge

And the moon above taunts you

pushing you just a little further

You can loose your footing now and become breathless in this vain act

Or you can wait for a while

Until dawn

And know that the start of this day was the end of you

morning mourning, huh?

Or you can sit down and let your legs dangle off the edge

And just drown the rocks instead

Or maybe you're sick of listening now

And you don't want to hear me again

Or anyone else

I don't know if you can swim

I sure as hell hope so..