[M Y A S T R O N O M I C A L F R I E N D S]

„no, it wouldn’t be me“
i say to the stars on a meadow
half a dozen shooting stars in the sky
but not a single wish on my mind

We laugh and joke
and the stars see through the fabric of my reality
and quietly whisper
„it hit you, it hit you“

And when the sun rises
On the day of no return
I wave goodbye to my astronomical friends
and accept that it’s always been this way
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