A pebble shoots out from the heel of his shoe
It plummets nine stories to Hades
A sleeve couldn't wipe all this suffering away
He tosses his wallet like dirt on a grave
Within every moment, ten hundred reside
His watch only mocks, so he throws it
Weaving from weakness, he stares at the sun
He laughs at the thought of redemption
The wind knew his guise as a powerful man
It blew off his mask and his fortune
He asks one last question while tossing her ring
''What is my chance of developing wings?''
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