I've always been told we hold black holes inside That know from the start that every star must die But it seems too convenient to lose track of time Now that you're gone, will my orbit unwind? What northern wind blew us into the street And what fatal one will we all someday meet? Swept into a palace with no sign of a king No court for us jesters, but we like to Sing of the moon as it sometimes get shy Running from lovers through starry-eyed skies Morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes Nothing ever really dies, right? Someone's lighting candles all over my floor And placed “holy of holy's” through every door But who are our doubts said to? Some half of the evening knew of listening ears, long withdrew? So we sing of the moon and the face that it hides Shining just half of its truth to our skies But bring me the sun that gives it all its light I don't want to just wait to die Alright