If the starry hosts laugh at me now
Then surely the lonely moon morns in reply
He knows what its like to be me
The only one of his type under the whole night sky

It used to be I had someone with me into the middle of the night.
We stayed up laughing and watching those starry mockers pass.
Neither of us were saints, as sinners would like us to look, yea right..
The stars wouldn’t judge. They shimmered brightly and went by..

When the night ended, all the mockers had their fill
They disappeared and my friend had had hers too.
She left as well, to follow those she could never catch
She left me for them and will never come back.

While looking up for her sky bound friends she forgot to look down.
She tripped and crashed and fell and tumbled into the ground.
When she finally slowed she had not enough light to see.
She couldn’t get up, find help, all she could do was bleed.

At her funeral the preacher, I remember this, he said;
“She looked for a way up there but she still ended up down here
Let us hope her heart was in better care than her head.”
And everyone says, “AMEN”