If not to touch the earth
and know your sun kissed skin,
if not to chase your shadow
through every place you've been.

If not to stand on mountains,
howling from the peaks,
if not to lie in fields
as melodic whispers weep.

If not to dance in forests
where tangled roots take hold,
if not to bathe in oceans
while eternities unfold.

If not to touch the earth,
upon me you would shine
and for that fleeting moment
I could call you mine.

Why did you do it?

You must have felt the hot drips of wax on your back,
known that your flight would soon be over.
So why did you stay up so high?

Did you know you'd become a warning?
A moral?
Was the height so exhilarating you forgot yourself?
Caught up in youthful idiocy like they say?

Or was it the first time you truly felt Apollo's rays?
Felt the light shining on your wings?
Did you fall in love with the sun?
And the sweet burn of melting wax and falling feathers?
I know I did.

Did you know it would soon be over?
Did you still climb higher?
Try to get a little bit closer?
Even as it burned?

Daedalus was just jealous you could fly higher than he ever dared to.
Jealous of your youth. Your freedom.
Cause you loved ever minute of it.

Icarus, did you know you were going to fall?
Decided it was worth it?
Your precious moments of freedom worth every terrified moment of descent
Because those breathes in the sun were the most beautiful ones you'd ever take.
Kids like us know: the best high is the one followed by the fall.

Icarus, they wanted you to be a lesson,
But I never saw you as anything but an inspiration