Astronomer’s Stoop


Maybe there's a weight to the way the stars wait.
Or how the light of day in midnight moves
I'm tired of the constellations, the flights for euthanasia
Did we ever really land on the moon?

Maybe there's a way to the words that miss you
Do they depress you? Well that's the way Love moves
I'm tired of the consolations, the clouds' candid solutions
To the way I'm color blue.

If all we want is the exception
Then who's left to play by broken rules
To bear the weight we gave the stars that wait
And the words that were lost on you?

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