(I wrote this one years ago, but just recently 'fixed it up')... Fly, with me, to my rendition of paradise; through the shortcut by way of the stars. Conquer love, with maximum levels of eternal life, 'stuck' behind its invisible bars. While taking the occasional swig of opportunity (I prefer mine with a twist of lime and 'on the rocks'), the trick is to avoid getting intoxicated enough to be unavailable for answering it's knocks. Travel, with me, to 'the heart of the matter' in the back seats of space's most expensive cars; through the shortcut by way of the stars. The man who has loved greatly -sadly- will, seldom, love as well again. A chance for romance may come with each passing day; what is irreplaceable, is a trustworthy friend. Drift, with civilization and I, up to grab the nearest star. The all-to-attentive pessimist is unable to grasp because -in reality- he's drifted too far.