one of the stars in your eyes has gone out,
so we lay back on the rooftop
late at night
in hopes that a shooting star
might take root
in the hole in your head.
and we'll wake up
in the morning
being stared down by an ashamed sun,
shamefully covering behind a cloud or two,
old man you've followed me down,
you've beaten me down,
and tonight i got the best of you.
