Round and round without a sound Moving in perfect circles Winter night, all is white Skating out on thin ice. Arms held wide either side I'm trying not to look down Step by step, straight ahead Walking a fine, fine line. Onward I go and though I know This is a dangerous past time I feel compelled to do this well Walking a fine, fine line. High I fly through sunlit skies Upward and onward I go At some stage I'll come undone From flying too close to the sun. Higher I go and though I know This is a dangerous past time I feel compelled to do this well Flying tok close to the sun.