Oh, stars
shouting from the sky,
your constellations become dreams
of spoons and bears and lions.
Let them be secrets
you whisper only to me.
Let the moon gather my wishes
and disperse them among you,
and when you die,
let your light rest
in the palm of my hand,
that I may find my way
in the darkness.
shouting from the sky,
your constellations become dreams
of spoons and bears and lions.
Let them be secrets
you whisper only to me.
Let the moon gather my wishes
and disperse them among you,
and when you die,
let your light rest
in the palm of my hand,
that I may find my way
in the darkness.
