I looked at the crowded starry sky,
Trying to ignore that curly black haired guy,
The one who brings sunshine on my cloudy days,
But in the end, it hurt me in countless ways.

I tried to count the sparkling stars,
Hoping their light would heal my scars,
However, no matter how much I tried,
Deep down inside, my heart still cried.

The wind whispers softly in my ears,
A reminder of those thousand tears,
I shouldn’t let myself fall into his trap,
But his charm pulls me with a gentle snap.

Now, I’m all alone in the dark,
Trying to rise and forget the painful mark,
I close my eyes, wishing for peace in the night,
But it always feels just out of sight.

I guess you’re just another goodbye.

March is a long month,
Rainy days with no remorse.
Even when the sun does come,
Bleak winds drag it back to the sky caves.
Though if not for these tested times,
Would there be an April song?

If there's rain in the sky,
Thunder in the clouds,
The we will take our two feet,
A run through these grounds.

If the fields are drenched,
Then let them be,
Wheat will sprout bountiful,
From the fresh water tears of the sky.

They will hear our feet pounding,
Louder than thunder,
Greater than the storm,
Tiocfaidh ár lá!

Soothing hue, tranquil blue.
A scene serene in testament to you.
I thank it, this blanket hung soft in the sky,
and drift on the breeze, the mute lullaby.
We are children of stars, all of us each,
if you look way back far beyond memory's reach.
Past fire and lightning, spirit and beast,
our atoms return, and stars we complete.

Look to the sky, our bubble of blue.
A window our parent forever feeds through.
A gentle notion, and grace in a descending motion
so subtle we feel only a warmth on our face as we float in a breathable ocean.

A mirror perhaps it holds above
and paints in clouds the world
with spires and cities and oceans
and shifts so subtle in ways unseen
so we won't forget the nature
of where we've been.

For though the world seems still and quiet
it shifts and it's easy to pass by it,
as we focus on each little thing
there's a joy that it brings, our Ozone,
in its patterns of premature recognitions
shapes that are born in a state of remission
and only those who are readily staring
see that the earth is patient and caring.

I want you here,
In this place with me.
I wish to hold you,
As the stars are born to the sky.

I need your touch,
These little fantasies.
I crave your kiss,
Each taste of love on your lips.

You, it's you.
I need you more than anything,
I need you more than water to drink.
Each touch of your hand restarts my broken heart,
Every grace of your touch raises me from the dead.
Are you a sorceress with a spell to temp me?
Or was I destined to cross paths with you?

You want to know the poet?
You want to know the man?
You can call him Hardison,
He's going for the grand throne,
In that hall of fame.
There's nothing that will halt him,
Till his name's carved in the sky.

My wings failed me
They can no longer fly
Forgiven, I wished to see
The glory your fins could buy.

Completely different; reverse
Our destiny wasn't the same,
Foolish to assume a converse
Between reins of a different game.

And I shall make reasons,
For I left heaven with this fall.
I committed a treason,
Drowning within the blue hall.

As I die, I wish,
A swim with you
But foolish I must be to think a fish,
Would leap out ocean's blue.

Yet you glide with ease,  
While I, a feathered relic, sink—  
Wings too weary for the breeze,  
A fate far colder than I think.  

The sky once knew my name,  
But the sea whispers none,  
Drenched in salt and quiet shame,  
Falling where no light will run.  

Tell me, do you ever dream  
Of soaring where the echoes call?  
Or is it just my hopeless scheme,  
To think the sky could break my fall?