I'm still surrounded by these four blank walls. Every picture I've painted has been taken down. The only difference: I don't forget the stars anymore. I still believe they will never collapse. Maybe I'm just naïve but I wish and wish and wish. Why am I so unsure? Why do both the past and future haunt me now? Maybe I'll leave this town when my fears become too strong; maybe I'll leave this town when the last star falls.
Maybe I'll leave this town when my fears become too strong.
Maybe I'll leave this town when my fears become too strong;
maybe I'll leave this town when the last star falls.