the street lights are judging
my every step just as the moon
evaluates my being by how
i spend my nights
only the moon knows how much
time i've spent mourning
about things that probably
won't matter when the sun rises
the stars look down at me
and whisper my secrets to
the other galaxies
as my eyes adjust
to the darkness
and all i could hear
is my beating
heart
[it's getting late,
it's getting late,
it's getting late]
