If I shot at a number line,
The chance of hitting it exactly would be 0,
Because a line made only of points has no width,
And points themselves have no size.

So it is impossible to pick a specific point.

So if I had, or did, shoot my shot,
I’d have no chance,
Because she is only his,
And he is hers.

So it is impossible to shoot my shot at her.

Rarely would I believe in stars connecting souls
Or that we could come together sure enough if we would align goals
That a red thread brings strangers together
And that your course of life cannot chance no matter what, or whether
You think you're alone


That you stare at the same night sky, somewhere out there
That love sees us through, even if we don't know where
Or who the other is
That this is what love is
It's precipice


That you count on a map from province to province
Will the hobby bring either prominence?
That even underneath the same night sky
We could think, wonder cry
If souls find love even when their bodies die

That skies open, that rain falls down on the same earth
That since birth, it was predestined souls will meet


That the theory states, that somewhere out there, if it was love, then said souls will come to meet for the first time, or even once more
Regardless of goals, of cares or hate


Cause somewhere out there, a beautiful soul owns your name, your likeness, and it wouldn't be the same
If I never knew, you were somewhere out there

Maybe if I had looked for you,
Thought this through,
You´d have come by,
I´d have caught your eye,
You´d come around-
Finally we´d be bound:
A heap of cold bones,
You´d find headstones,
My flesh so long rotten,
Just like always forgotten.