Look at the evening falling off ladders all over the world.
Have you seen the little stars, dropping off the sky, on new moon nights?
We are spilling secrets now, inside our minds
with new old friends sitting by our side.
I like you, little friend born in the heat of May,
but a little white, and a lot of night, inside your head.
From faces, born little stories, that go on and on inside caves
away from the city,
where you sit opposite me
share the stories of our loves and lotteries.