The Boy Who Flew When Icarus flew Into the skies and cut through The clouds, he wasn’t a fool, He was a bird, free and true. When sun melted his wings, Dripped wax along its strings, And ran down his arms, singed His skin with the heat of kings, He worried not that he would fall, Because he saw that everyone knew He would be remembered As the boy who flew. And when water filled his lungs, And he choked and gasped for air As wax choked his tongue, He worried not that he would die, Because he saw that everyone knew He would be remembered As the boy who flew.
