The chords strike 12, annoucing the last train.

"Its like you're on top of a very high building, traffic below you, and feet on the edge. And you can see everything you want in life, falling infront of you, your job, house, man, other people, anything you dream off, just your life, you can see floating infront of you. And there's a wind, blowing from behind you, making your clothes dance in it. Feet wobble on the edge. Just one leap, one leap to grasp everything you ever wanted, and spend a lifetime with it all. There's a chance you'll go straight to the car's at the bottom and die, but its not that thats worrying you. Its not the fact the building is high; you're not scared of heights. 1

Its the jump, the jump into reality you cant' face. A jump into the life that you need to grasp with both hands, before it just floats away. Around you you can see a lot of other people, engulfed in the cyclon that is their life, enjoying it to the max. But there you are, rooftop bound, and its the step forward, that you can't do. The people in their own cyclones yell out to you from a distance about how you feel, and you can only describe it with "fine" or "okay" because they can't understand, they're already in the system you either want to be a part of, or not. But standing in the pouring rain, as the weather shoots silver bullets down at you, you feel a sense of peace, battling the weather. Half on the rooftop, half off, what are you going to do? Can you risk it?2

One more look out, there's someone reaching out to you, givging you their hand. And you touch the edge of their fingertips, breathing in the human contact, as only your fingertips meet. They smile, and go to pull you closer, but you stop. Stop reaching. The rain entwines the two sets of fingertips toegther, but there's nothing you can do. And then they pull back, wave goodbye, and back into the cycle they drift, back into your life they go, dancing in the wind with someone else. And you take just one step back, just one. To feel safe again. Safe, but numb, the bare porclein tiles slapping against your feet, as you stumble backwards, stumble, and fall, falling through the fabric of time, and then you hit it, as the bones shatter in your body, you make contact with time and the tiles, knocked out for another day.."3