They give us eighteen years To figure out how to spend our lives;We’re pushed towards high-paying careersAt the cost of letting our dreams die.

As artists, we create the beautyWe are too afraid to live outAnd search, but always fall just shyOf finding what life is about.

Are we like two stars in a constellationSeeming so closeAnd making so much senseYet in realityWe are separated by lightyearsAnd shall never meet?Except, perhapsIn that sacred spaceBetween dreams and realityCalled hope.

I found a night’s sky full of starsIn your cinematic eyesAnd heard a symphonyIn your laughter.

You are my drug of choiceI know you’re no good for meAnd though I swear my lipsWill never touch you againHere we are, here we are.