It's not the rise to the heavens that kills you,
It's the fall from grace...
I find myself repeating my patterns
A turn of the head or a smile
Knowing you no longer notice
It's killing me mile by mile
It's not the rise to the heavens that kills you,
It's the fall from grace...
The world is hard and cruel place
With fame fleeting and flying
By the time you realize it's there
Your career is rapidly dying
It's not the rise to the heavens that kills you,
It's the fall from grace...
This all may seem quite depressing
Words filled with doom and gloom
But where dead bodies are buried
Many flowers generally bloom
