It′s tricky when
You feel that someone
Has done something
On your behalf

It′s slippery when
Your sense of justice
Murmurs underneath
And you′re asking yourself:

How am I going to make it right?

With a palmful of stars
I shake them like dice
Repeatedly
I throw them on the table
Until the desired constellation appears
And I ask myself:

How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?