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You were born in KC, Missouri |
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To a girl who wasn't married |
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After your birth she brought you to the nursery |
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Kissed your head and told you not to worry |
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And the quitely she turned and slipped away |
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In the elevator her heart began to pound |
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To the rooftop, in her slippers, and her gown |
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On the edge, she took one last look around |
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Then closed her eyes and pushed away |
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Speeding toward the ground |
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Through the air without a sound |
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So gracefully |
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Twelve flights down, nearly naked on the ground |
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Skin and tagedy always attract a crowd |
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So it was when the policeman came around |
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He took more than fifty eyewitness accounts |
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Each one in awe, for they'd never seen a girl so sad and beatiful |
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Speeding toward the ground |
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Through the air without a sound |
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Speeding toward the ground |
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Through the air without a sound |
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So gracefully |
