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lets say youre walking down the road, nowhere in particular you want to go,, just wandering when you see a star high up above hanging from a moon. oh, what should you do to save the star, the lighting will blind his eyes, he will never see the moon the sun ever again his friends long lost in another galaxy. where i live, i do not know but at an angle to to see the snow - teardrops falling from the star down below, a cry of help to whoever you are please rescue the hanging star. oh, all of the humiation of being tied with a rope by the ankles and weighed down with troubles. oh, hanging star, bite yourself free, burn it, cut it, twist it up, just fall freely down to earth with your troubles burning, a falling star is what you are.
last night, i thought i saw a shooting star. in the valley below, there was a small imagination. looking for a home. in the sea, where lives a golden key. inside of a red clam. unlock it. the imagination is now free. flutters over the trees, and jumps into a browning pile of leaves. where do the inspirations go? the small child, has seemed to lost his mind, an artist to become, painting purple roses, and yellow unicorns, and umbrellas with a small boat. float across the sea, ill be waiting with he, your imagination.
