Way Up High - Milow

I’ll tell you a secret

There’s no such thing as time and space

The stars and comets

Will survive the human race

What’s done is done

Today is seven years since you’re gone

I’m doing well so far

I’m still wondering where you are

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

I’ll tell you my secret

That sunny afternoon in March

Changed my life completely

Turned out to be a brand new start

What’s done is done

It’s been seven years since you’re gone

Tonight I think of you

I know one day I’ll join you too

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

Way up high

It’s hard not to look at the ground as you walk.

To set your sights low,

keep the world spinning and try to stay grounded wherever you are.

But every so often you remember to look up and imagine the possibilities.

Dreaming of what’s out there.

Before long, you find yourself grounded once

again.

Grounded in the sense of being homebound.

Stuck on Earth.

The more you look to the sky, the more you find youself back on Earth,

confronting certain possibilities.

It’s possible that there are other names

for our planet, that we will never know.

That there are constellations that

feature our sun, from an angle we’ll never get to see.

That there are many

other civilizations hidden beyond the veil of time, too far away for their

light to ever reach us.

We dream of other worlds, and name them after our old

discarded gods, and they seem almost as distant — too far to be seen with the

naked eye.

Only ever in artist’s renditions.

Or a scattering of pixels on a

monitor, with the colors tweaked to add a bit of flair.

Even our own

neighbourhood is impossibly vast.

We’re used to showing the planets nested

together because if we drew them to scale, they’d be so far apart,

they wouldn’t fit on the same page.

And even our own moon, that seems to hang

so close to Earth.

But still so far away that all the other planets could fit

in the space between them.

It’s possible our spacesuits won’t need treaded

boots ever again.

That one day soon we’ll tire of wandering and move back home

for good.

And we’ll get used to watching our feet as we walk, occasionally

stopping to hurl a single probe into the abyss, like a message in a bottle.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter if anyone ever finds it.

If nobody’s there to know

we once lived here on Earth.

Maybe it should be like skipping a stone across

the surface of a lake.

It doesn’t matter where it ends up, It just matters that

we’re here on the shore.

Just trying to have fun and pass the time,

and see how far it goes

The primary difficulties that we observed was that there was just far too

little time to do the variety of things that we would have liked to have done