May the fourth be with you
And also with you
Lift your eyes up
We lift our eyes to the light side
I’ll wait for days in the woods
If you tell me to
Hope is a fickle thing
When it comes to love
We don’t hold much faith
It will work out well, even
Though we hold the cards
Yet we buy lottery tickets
Just to dream for the
Impossibility of wealth
And all the things big
ol’ piles of money solve