And they moved, and they walked the Earth.
And they came for him, and they asked the questions.
And the man stopped, not to be able to understand what they say.
So the world continues onward, begging questions begging onward.
Yet the voices, no one’s eye, it was hard what they had to say.
And so he believes we all see the same thing.
Yet is this the March, is this the moment, is it May?
When does thou come toward ye?
The star was well beyond May.
And in it twas enveloped enough to understudy the science of rationing,
and with the noise that cancels out our mind, we ran. We ran until this day.
No longer are we a star gazer, but a traveler among st your time.
They touch. They love. They kiss.
But the star was real.
What does it mean?
How, do we feel?