Phish

Standing on the edge of a cliff
I start to slip
Don't mind if I slide off
Now I feel my mood start to lift
I find my grip
And the screaming fades away below
I grab myself and spin me around
I start to sprint
I climb down to steadier ground
If I could bushwack it on back to the shack
Behind those hills
I'll find the world is finally still
Run through pale dark words to
That sugar shack
Breathe warm steam and hide
In that old sugar shack
Boiling heat
Maple steam
Frozen Snow
Then it Flows