I saw a shooting star last year,
I made a wish for ridiculous things.
Some new games,
Maybe some spare change.
You know,
kiddie things.
Closed my eyes and chanted the words,
Two weeks and nothing ever came.
I had a bitter taste in my heart
watching the golden cookies in the sky,
wondering why they couldn't grant my wish.
Months later, I saw another shooting star.
I greeted it bitterly, baring new wishes,
as if I were a mother soon to be.
I wished for a peace of mind,
you know, teenage things.
I wished for my crush to be mine,
to be constantly lost in her eyes,
seducing pupils baiting me in.
Weeks later, the wish didn't appear, and
I'm chasing my dreams
as if it were the bunny from looney tunes.
Last week, I saw the shooting star.
I'm convinced it's the same one,
teasing me.
Bitter, I was.
I swung and cussed at the sky,
while making wishes, of course.
This time, I wished for understanding.
You know,
adolescent things.
Everything is confusing,
all my wishes are eluded.
Seems I'm the only one who's been through it.
I've wished for for joy.
I've wished for peace.
I've wished for understanding.
The only thing I can wish for is more wishes,
but a shooting star never listens.
Seems I'm the farthest from understanding,
but the closest to insanity.