The Shape of The Sky

The sun is hanging in the sky

That one ball of mine

With which I play, spending my time

Under the blue, rounded, bright sky

The sky sometimes blues, sometimes shines

Above my eyes, sometimes crudes, sometimes crying

But the sun is always there, when the night is not mine

I'm always hanging in my ceiling

That wood of waggly feeling

Through which I stare at the supernal roof

An I ignore the lessons the stars try me to prove

The stars walk by and around me every day

They like to talk, they like even better to stay

By my side, no matter lonely or bored I may

Now the the roof has broken away from my view

And the ceilling's quit swinging, it's in whole still

Since you've been staring at me, since I've been hearing your words

Now I can burn the sun around and fight the stars with my swords