Most people make a wish on shooting stars.
Not me.
When one passes in the night,
If there are people with me,
I look,
And smile,
And laugh,
But the joy is fake.
If I'm alone
I still look,
I frown,
I look away.
And once I've turned,
I look back,
But it's too late.
The star is gone.
Every time I promise myself,
That with the next one,
I'll follow it,
All the way across the sky.

Most people look for a shape in the clouds.
Not me.
When one passes by the sun,
If there are people with me,
I look,
And smile,
And point,
But the joy is fake.
If I'm alone,
I still look,
I frown,
I look away.
And once I've turned,
I look back,
But it's too late.
The cloud is gone.
Every time I promise myself,
That with the next once,
I'll follow it,
all the way to the horizon.

Most people watch raindrops splash into puddles.
Not me.
When some drop from the storm cloud,
If the are people with me,
I look,
And smile,
And pick a certain one to track.
But the joy is fake.
If I'm alone,
I still look,
I frown,
I look away.
And once I've turned,
I look back,
But it's too late.
The raindrop is gone.
Every time I promise myself,
That with the next one,
I'll follow it,
All the way to the bottom.

Most people ooh and ahh at fireworks.
Not me.
When one bursts in the sky,
If there are people with me,
I look,
And smile,
And appraise,
But the joy is fake.
If I'm alone,
I still look,
I frown,
I look away.
And once I've turned,
I look back,
But it's too late.
The color is gone.
Every time I promise myself,
That with the next one,
I'll follow it,
All the way to the last faded sparks.

Most people,
Aren't like me.