We sit in class,
Playing guitars, singing sweet harmonies.
There's still a month of school to go,
But we're done learning already.

Sometimes I wake up
In the middle of the night
And look for your form

If the stars communicated like we human brothers,
Would they speak poorly of each other?
If stars come in many forms, ages, and colors,
Do they think highly of one over the other?
If one star has more planetary followers than another,
Would the others whisper harshly of how this star seeks more attention than another?
If stars are all different, and yet are made the same as each other,
Do they seperate themselves from one another?
If stars are born of the same matter,
Would this matter be their God or their mother?
If stars do speak like we human brothers,
Why do they work much better than us others?

The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.

The long days
Of doing what has to be done,
Of connecting my everyday actions to you,
Of counting every second 'till I talk to you
Of waiting.

The warm nights
Of talking to you,
Of imagining your voice,
Of reconnecting to eachother,
Of love.

The bright dreams
Of seeing you
Of hearing you
Of touching you
Of happiness.

The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.