There are garden lights in the sky And there are stars on the hills Swimming pool nebulae And the air smells good enough To eat. There are words written in neon Over the starscape, announcing, Motel, Hotel Places to stay Pitstops in the always terminal journey Some people will call life. We are born in clinics And we die in hospitals Bought plastic imitation flowers, because They don’t require water Or somebody to nuture them Talk to them, appreciate them Sometimes I wonder if people are Artificial, in this respect. We keep friends who are low-maintenance People we don’t have to grieve for Love for, leave for. Who are too afraid to tell us if they are afraid Because they are scared that we’ll become scared And run until we are too far to love them. Because we only love those close to us. So what happens when somebody is far away? People die and nobody knows Until the paperwork is pushed, and somebody will say “Hey Joe, where’s he?” And nobody Will be able to answer. There are garden lights in the sky And there are stars on the hills And here I am, asking you To love me; if you can Even if I am too far to fathom Too far that you think you can’t reach me.
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