She stood near the edge on a warm summer night
Her cheekbones high with the pride of the dying
Her silky soft hands held the railing so tight
The seagulls could hear her soft crying
Torn between all the choices she made in her life
The three sides nudged her closer to doom
The fresh air of her choice made her high as a kite
Before long she would run out of room
Then her toes would move slowly to thier destination
The railing would act as her road and her ladder
They could reach out their hand they could say they were wrong
She would smile at them like they mattered
Then the fog would engulf her they'd see her no more
She'd leave all the people she'd loved
And she'd land with her dreams all laid out before her
On the silvery wings of a dove.