Perched up on a dried-out limb Can hear for miles, it cracking in the wind The vision of it hollowed out Form's always the last thing to leave Frozen solid Terror held Will be until it drops If the bottom's already given out once What's stopping it from giving again? Bare and open, no ladder down Balanced and shaking in precarity Either way, you have no control You'll relax once you concede If the bottom's already given out once What's stopping it from giving again? If the bottom's already given out once What's stopping it from giving again?