What Do You Make of the Stars?

Would you look at the number of stars out tonight?

I can't think when I've ever seen starlight so bright.

You can see why they say it's romantic alright,

All those men with flamenco guitars.

You can bet they insist on another thing too,

Make a wish on a star and that wish will come true.

Do you think something like that might happen for you?

Tell me, what do you make of the stars?

Can you find what your ancestors pictured up there?

Can you pick out the Archer, the Dog and the Bear?

Do you know that the starlight is crowning your hair

With the wealth of the last of the Tsars?

I don't know how much star gazing's ever been worth,

I don't know if the heavens acknowledge the earth

But it feels like a star did a dance at your birth

Tell me, what do you make of the stars?

When we're young, we like anything fiery and bright,

like the Fourth of July, or Christmas tree lights.

We strike big kitchen matches (although that's not right)

and put glow worms in mayonnaise jars.

Someday, if we grow up, like most people do,

We look at the stars and they're no longer new

Then we have to ask somebody little, like you,

Tell me, what do you make of the stars?