Fallen Angels

Hear the young men scream, see them dropping one by one.
Beautiful in agony, burning like the sun.
See them blaze their acrobatic shapes into the sky.
Too close to the sun, my son, too close too many fly.

I scream this warning as I fall; a ball of fire and fool.
My insides burning with naive abandon of this rule.
I myself heard this before but always thought 'not I', amateur
so don't just know it, live it, you hazard your soul and why?
Just for the sake of sun, my son? Too close you risk to fly.

Still I speak this warning, lying without friend or soul.
My child abide by this one if you must pick just one rule:
To seek pleasures too freely is to reach the edge of sky,
that's too close to the sun, my son. I cannot help but sigh,
for too close to the sun, my son,
too close
too many
fly...