A canvas of stars spreads out below me
The lights of faraway cities and nearby towns
A painting, a cheap replica of the real masterpiece above
These manufactured stars are so pretty
It’s hard not to wish on the grounded version of something so far away.

This twinkling sprinkling of different colors stretches out far into the distance
It’s hard not to imagine that you see the same lights, the same lamps
But you don’t, although it may seem like you do
You can see the same stars, though
Aren’t the stars supposed to float above me?

I don’t know anymore, which way is up
It’s so easy to sink into the illusion of happiness
So easy to sink into the delusion that I’m already on top of the stars
But these stars end at the edge of the wilderness
And the real stars grow brighter, and it just confuses me

I don’t understand why so many people can think the same thing
How so many people can truly be happy, thinking they’ve reached the stars
Why can’t I reach my stars?
Is it because my stars are real? Or because they are fake?
Are you happy with your stars?

Or do you see the real stars? So far away, so much harder to understand, so much better, so much more real, the same stars I’m gazing at right now.