The party clasped on to the wire
It held their weight quite well
The punks cheered, jeered, told them they’d fall
Cloud shot back, “Go to Hell!”

The wire twisted up and up
Through wreckage of the plate
Cloud’s batt’ries proved so useful
That it almost seemed like fate

Finally they reached the top
Cut through alley and street
‘Til o’er their heads rose Shinra Tow’r
At least eight hundred feet

“Okay, Mr. SOLDIER”
Barret said without delay
“Since you should be the expert here
I’ll let you lead the way”

Cloud tried to mask his ignorance
In truth, he’d never been
“I know this place like back of hand
Now . . . how do we get in?”