Natural selection, in the sky.
Everything I ever wanted, in the sky.
I can close my eyes, but that will never get me there.
Burdens of paper floating like clouds in waters of tears.
Built up of toothpick fantasies flying over a bridge of anxiety.
I can look to the ground, under dirt and cores of burning molten.
But where would I find you?
In the dark corners of a bar, playing let me sink the ball for five dollar pints.
Or would I catch a glimpse of you beside the sunny sunny smile of someone I never told.
There will never be a rain storm over the sea.
In the sky there is a star.
A sailors moon and a bottle of Potters vodka waiting for you.
Bait or not,
flying past me or not.
To the nearest BP for a refill on your ego.
But there is a dream I have where I'm flying in the sky near you,
and that is close enough.
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