The stars are popping, skip hopping
Into the blood blue, blue night sky
A further station of the cross, it is show stopping
Mopping up the blessed, blest Pope John Paul
The shooting stars fly east to west
Fading aureole carried by the borealis
Boy I’m blest
I am no longer second best
Freed from among the rest
The night time test is going west
Boy I’m blest
I’ve flown the nest
Popping eyes
Stopping lies
Dropping why’s
And hints of evermore
The blue night sky
She’ll show me where to lie
Hang my hat beyond the falling star
I’ve travelled far
To lift this lowered bar
Back up aside the Byzantine tzar
Up into the ether
With John Paul meeting Peter
