And for ten hours out of the day, I gaze up at a canvas not my own

Scarred sometimes by the lonely streetlights too cruel to describe

The stars want to be seen, even when the moon is it's own worst enemy

I am far from home and without a rooftop or backyard to help me

If the suburbs did one thing for me, they let me see the stars

Even on the brightest nights still shining adrift on a perfect sea

It's a crime unnoticed as they fade into obscurity at 7am on the hour

Impossible, but I wish the that night would fall to the ground

Blackest sackcloth with no sun to seal it up and toss it away