you yell at me
you yell at me and it hurts,
it hurts like hell even if it's only
because you hurt my pride

you grasp at me
you grasp at me and I choke,
strangled by the grip of your hand
because you're sick of my crying

you're yelling again
more like screaming,
telling me I'd better make this one count
make this one count

jump off the high dive!
get a running start!

stop with your pathetic whines
there's a technicality you say?
technicality - an excuse
for the unexusable

you can run to the ladder
make chase to the ground
sheepish, with red skin to be sure
but better than to drown?

you stand thirty feet high
as you look down and tremble
as your shoulders turn rigid
as you stare-play the abyss below

welcome to the high dive