Ideas Are Like Stars
Today Joseph is sitting alone,
With occassional nods to the waitress.
She tops off his cup while she's snapping her gum,
Making her rounds on the lunch shift.
And counting out coins, he leaves them arranged,
In neat lines and circles and arcs.
She just stares at the tip that spells out her name,
Ideas are like stars.
And yesterday pedalling down 4th avenue,
Between the stalls and the bookshops.
The sepia tones of a lost afternoon,
Cradled a curio storefront.
And inside the air was thick with the past,
As the dust settled onto his heart.
And here for a moment is every place in the world,
And ideas are like stars.
They fall from the sky, they run round your head,
They litter your sleep as they beckon,
They'd teach you to fly without wires or thread,
They promise, if only you'd let them.
For the language of longing never had words,
So how did you speak from your heart?
Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that,
Ideas are like stars.
Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard,
As Debussy played from the kitchen,
His celestial companions 'til morning's first light,
Shone overhead and he listened.
And who was that shadow there by the gate?
Who was that there standing guard?
It was only loneliness and lonliness waits,
And ideas are like stars,
Ideas are like stars.
With occassional nods to the waitress.
She tops off his cup while she's snapping her gum,
Making her rounds on the lunch shift.
And counting out coins, he leaves them arranged,
In neat lines and circles and arcs.
She just stares at the tip that spells out her name,
Ideas are like stars.
And yesterday pedalling down 4th avenue,
Between the stalls and the bookshops.
The sepia tones of a lost afternoon,
Cradled a curio storefront.
And inside the air was thick with the past,
As the dust settled onto his heart.
And here for a moment is every place in the world,
And ideas are like stars.
They fall from the sky, they run round your head,
They litter your sleep as they beckon,
They'd teach you to fly without wires or thread,
They promise, if only you'd let them.
For the language of longing never had words,
So how did you speak from your heart?
Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that,
Ideas are like stars.
Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard,
As Debussy played from the kitchen,
His celestial companions 'til morning's first light,
Shone overhead and he listened.
And who was that shadow there by the gate?
Who was that there standing guard?
It was only loneliness and lonliness waits,
And ideas are like stars,
Ideas are like stars.