When The Laughter Stops

Well we turned hands, pushed but whe could not break, guess whats behing closed doors? Enigma remains. I thought id turned the corner its like i jumped right back. Climbing the steeple, out of reach i hear a slow dance, before we used to bitch and now a fast dance, a painting that goes through the edges of the framing and something you should of said, a balancing act upon a ledge as we pull back, tightropes across buildings, quiet roads, symptoms, fallings, cast off, calling adieu.