I always loved the idea of us,
in the same way that the stars are beautiful from far away.
I've burnt every home I've built in the sky.
There are universes in my head,
and I'm getting lost again and again.
I drift through the spaces of where you were.
The light from your stars still shine,
but it's long burnt out.
The universe is endless,
and my thoughts are the same;
a sad constellation with no one around.
Maybe I'll find some far away planet for me to rest my head,
and I'll speak with the flowers and the moon there,
and I'll let them know about how something beautiful once happened
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