I could call ghosts
Closer, yearning for youth
If they were afraid of affection
Machiavelli
Hey, they couldn't feel our love
For Raphael too
They couldn't paint white on our faces
Pale as the moonlight
Fearful of the darkness
In case it overshadows the sun
In the blindness
Which is a touch truant
Incurring divinity
Keeps us from our stars
And luck keeps us in ours
Luck, Celestial
Flows through the solar system