The stars hang from a string,
paralyzed to watch the world's play.
Confined to silence by the clouds,
their chance to speak rests on the tide:

"Please someone come and rescue us from this height of tragedy.
We don't want to see any more -- the clashing of love and hate
blinds our nova depths, but we no longer wish to have vision.
Cut us down with scissors made of steel and let us fall, fall,
fall into the blanket of the sea.."

And unattainable comfort is suddenly offered;
it's not raining, no, it's the stars falling
into their oceanic escape.

The world is left without the stars
to light its stage, alone to bask
in its self-inflicted darkness.
And the stars melt into seashells,
relishing in the ocean's ignorance.