High on the ridge of the damn, staring down that long smooth face; I know I'm going to die.

I hate heights. I always have and I know I can't fly but he's pushing me, pushing me to step off into space.

What if I can? He tells me I can. He's pushing me, pushing me, off into space.

I'll just hold out my wings and glide. It'll be peaceful. The air will hold me up. I'll glide off into space.

Who keeps yelling, Tracy don't?

I'll just glide away, on my fluttering wings; I'll just step off and glide.