A night sky is a piece of black paper,
With little holes drawn in chalk.
Rested by a soft, white, light,
Warmed by a nearby lantern.
If we were to leave the cold earth now,
And fly up, so high,
We would feel the warmth too.
I'd bet there's an empty star, somewhere far,
Sparkling against the inky sky.
If we're kind and treat it right,
That star will keep us safe,
If not for forever, than tonight.