End of moments... (Before)

It's been such a boring day, with the rain and all. Something near 6.30 I went out and had a nice walk, all of a sudden. When I got back home I was same or maybe more bored than before. Have you ever been there, right there where you want to do something about something but you just can do nothing, and all that's left is to write...

The stars have made their move

the sun has deserted the stage

the moon it's taking it's place... the play.

Literally we wish we could change courses

cause we get stuck and left behind

everything falls to pieces, and...

everything seems to care, but...

the broken sentences and crumbled paper said it all

the fact of "can't"... an act that rest in our hands

"you could make your own way" they say

but some things are unavailable to change

this third hand... priceless but useless

not even it's shoulder... not even to cry...

the stars have made their move

they're just setting things up to set fire

tears roll down space and time

as she ever cares about the stars

but she never cares about the stars at all.