That satellite might make me nervous, and space dust might stress me out more than I want it to. All I know is Heaven and Hell; you can't change me.
I hope you understand why I'm pushing you away. I hope you realize the reasons I'm fascinated with the ceiling of my car, and the floor mats under my feet. The door I'm shoving you through, well dear, I changed the locks; bury that key you have. It doesn't matter anymore.
You're the thing that makes my skin crawl, because of you, the hooks on my wall have all fallen down, they were heavy with the baggage you asked me to carry up the stairs. Guess what? The baggage never made it that far. It wasn't meant to.
You're out the door, I'm throwing the baggage on the street, I'm banishing you from this house; I'm learning to trust the satellite floating high above my head, floating among the stars. Sometimes, I stare through the telescope my heart lent me, and I watch the satellite. I watch it floating through space and I make a wish on it. (Yes, you heard me dear, I wish on satellites.)
Heaven and Hell will have to wait, because I'm watching satellites, and I'm waiting on space dust. I'm locking my door, and I'm never letting you back in.
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