Maybe there's a weight on the way the stars wait for the light of day and the way light moves.
I'm tired of the constellations and fights for euthanasia.
Did we ever really land on the moon?
Maybe there's a weight on the words I miss you.
Do they repress you? That's the way love moves.
I'm tired of the constellations and stars mean every solution for the way I feel.
Men weren't meant for Mars.
Oh my love will we be the same?
Oceans pale that fill my eyes (heart), filling out a space in time.
And oh my love, will we been the same?
Astronomers
We Are The City
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