Low Slow

Out from the tunnel you walk All with rungs of bulbs surrounding you like golden laurels You chalk your hands and you clap clouds, mm You move deliberately All smooth and deep are your steps to the stairs Lend impossible cares as you stand and wait For the glare to fade But I'm already poison-leaden Line with finery the wire you walk The wire you walk All in war-paint, the audience is patient So they can say that they were the day you took your spill And the nets escape The fastest way But the best of them Is the last of them Their woolen suits are lined with fruit for you But they never said that it ain't for you alone So I say you should just grace them with your old fantastic, oh Amaze them with your old fantastic, oh And brace yourself and fall into the air, oh, ooh, oh, ooh, oh --- Low Slow - Laura Stevenson