Dancing On The Blades [Philosophical]

It's not unorthodox by any means
To dream of things quite far beyond your reach
Perhaps your soul could show you how it leans
Revealing you don't practice what you preach

A static city, made of wax and dust
That totters gently on the edge of life
Could be refreshing, if I'm being just
But not quite so for those under the knife
What is it in the human mind that asks
If we are geared more wholly to the rough
Though we, content to bear the oft-spoke 'mask',
Refuse to chew the meat when it gets tough?
A wild want will grow within my heart
To live and die for someone I don't know
As though I could command such valiant art
As though I willingly could take the blow

Those who wish for war are cruel or young
And as these daydreams follow in cascade
The threat of loss of life is clear and strong
But that's the thrill of dancing on the blades