Falling from the strap, the motorcycle you rode.
Weaving passed, the children in cars, camera crew rovers; Your daughter on the back, it all made sense. Wave one hand (throttle side), weaving passed; It all made sense. Out of sequence candy clips, you wore a helmet riding, but didn't think (or) question twice, the safety of a thousand yells, and rotor tracks. Metal grinds, a spark flies.
We watched in slow-motion, the replays of your arrival.
We watched in slow-motion, the exit of a soul.
Atop a building as you fell, fall down. The people scream, at a thought of an accident, at a slip of a strap. slipping the belt, spin and hurdle, slip the belt, tussle pull.
Weaving passed, the crowds of people: Seeing your wife cry, at the son she lost -it all made sense. Your mother aches, for the husband she lost -it all made sense.
Close your eyes, it all makes sense.
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