The sun says just as much in its presence as in its absence
A beautiful escape from the sky
How could endings be so graceful?
As the fire goes out, the passion dies
I lay here believing that there’s more out here
In the dark, there is still light
In the night, stars come out
They are much brighter, much more genuine than our inventions  
Artificial could never replace the real thing
Although the sunset is beautiful and the night of stars are beautiful,
There is always some awful grey in between