I saw you outside after your big show.
I stopped to talk to you but now I don't know.
Further and further away from me, I don't know where you are.
You were just a shooting star.
I say Christine.
Now I write you letters everyday.
I haven't sent them yet but that's ok.
I lie in bed every night and all I can dream of is you.
Tell me now this isn't right, what am I to do?