Baby, don't make your wishes on dying stars. The last whispers on the trailing tears as it flies hopeless and dangerously, between heaven and earth. These are wishes that burn in glory or fade quietly against the other stars that hold steadily their places in the sky.

Let's make our wishes on different lights, like the sparks that illuminate your eyes. Let me plant hope in your heart(h) and kisses on your face.

Then, when the stars sleep and begin to fade, let's grant our own wishes as our sun illuminates our sky.