Little Stars

Hold on to your hats
Dust off where you came from
Throw those cameras away
Embrace the things that you abstain from
If you could all shut up
Take a peek out from your hairstyles
God is gonna speak
Just as she comes through the turnstiles
Little stars arrayed around her head and
I swear, against my will
I will be hers until the disbelieving ones
are dead
Don’t look to the skies
For a sign if it’s gonna run smooth
It’s just a drop of rain
Nothing compared to what we’ve
come through
Little stars arrayed around her head and I
swear, against my will
I will be hers until the disbelieving ones
are dead