Cut open my palms.
And watch as the stars come pouring out.
They'll glimmer in the moonlight, just like they're shooting across the galaxy as they drip to my feet.
And gather in a puddle beneath me,
just like the Milky-way.
I'll make a wish upon them,
Thimble in hand.
For a land, where age has no meaning,
hearts have no bounds,
and never,
is an awfully long time.