We walk along the wire,
In the circus act above,
And we balance on that string,
It's the tight rope we call love.

And you get sick of all this balance,
And so you jump and don't look down,
And you think you've found some freedom,
Until you hit the ground.

And we walk along the wire,
As the string begins to fret,
And the longer that we stay here,
The higher that we get.

You must meed me in the middle,
It's a tricky sort of game,
Once you step out on that wire,
You will never be the same.

Because the higher that you go,
The harder that you'll hit,
You're not falling into love,
You are falling of from it.

And we walk along the wire,
As the string begins to fret,
I will meet you in the middle,
But I think we need a net.

And if we meet there in the middle,
We will know our love is true,
And you can lean on me for balance,
I can lean upon you too.

And we walk along the wire,
As the string begins to fret,
And the longer that we stay here,
The higher that we get.

And if we're walking on the wire,
And the string begins to fret,
We must patch it as we go,
This is the only chance we get.

Don't fall.