Its like a chorus of that song,
The change of the night star,
Swimming in that far seeking beauty,
With the slow strums of a guitar.

With all the troubles left behind,
In this lease of the true life,
Like an anxious traveller,
In all new adventures strife.

This earnest new touch of life,
In the untouched dark moon,
Has stepped in this crazy light,
Holding the map to the blue lagoon.

The hands were always *****,
With all the tricked mess,
The sea was always the deeper jump,
Yet the stars dressed to impress.

For the metal hands were ever rusted,
For this life was like carved stone,
Always beaten with hardness,
And walking out a sharp firestone.