| Intent, a wooden lattice is placed
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| feathers are waxed and laced
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| reeds are stockpiled, patiently cast
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| and curved, each longer than the last
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| it is a perfect design, a boldfaced
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| attempt to fly
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| Back off the boardwalk, at the Midtown
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| dressed in chiffon, dressed in her best gown
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| an angel black as the color of her hair
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| begins to sing and play and dare
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| to form a perfect design, a boldfaced
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| attempt to fly
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| falling out of the middle
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| the air begins to thin
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| from light into darkness
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| into the light again
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| gravity conspiring
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| with the forces of drag
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| so nose up and farewell
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| to those who lag
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| and who didn’t blow the whistle
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| took calculated risks
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| who didn’t push the river
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| who didn’t use their fists
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| who didn’t go to great lengths
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| nor to great heights
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| you’re up in the air now
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| Divine
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| Moonshine drunk, you’re smug as the Sun
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| larger than life, baby you’re the one
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| with wings, rising over the wall
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| falling out of the middle, away from us all
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| it was a perfect design
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| a boldfaced attempt to fly |