Nothing is fair.
Why can't I help somebody. All of them, I want to tell them it's all going to be ok.
I want to find the cure,
I want to be the one to fix the world.
To fix us,
to fix us all.
I wish I could give everything I have to help you,
but it won't help,
because there is no cure for this.
There is nothing I can do.
'So while the sky melts and bleeds colors, shifting as it does, we become enlightened in a million different ways. And with eyes open we watch the shooting stars stream back from the ends of the earth, carrying with them the moon. Pulled by wishes on strings it floats in the sky while trains whistle melodies across cornfields and cities. And it shines amidst the darkness, flanked by a thousand points of light, whispering to the world verses of comfort and assurance, saying “There is a song the universe sings, with a hundred different words and a handful of stanzas. And none of it is in a language you’d understand. But you may rest easy in knowledge that after the melody dies away, there will still be something. Still, a song will remain. And it will sing of you.'
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