From the recording Santa Fe
©1979 Michael R. J. Roth
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
I wonder how we got this far,
and what the world is up to now
while I play my guitar.
Twinkle, twinkle, falling snow,
where do all the feelings go
when the city lights are low
and we set off alarms?
So little I know of the world:
we get stuck, picked up and twirled,
the stars burn out, the snow is soiled,
sweet love turns stale and hard.
Twinkle, twinkle, little boy,
your papa's broken all his toys.
You wind up a brand new joy
that circles through the hours.
Who do you woo so feverishly?
Make a wish and set us free.
This night's a birthday cake for thee.
Blow out the countless stars.
Twinkle, twinkle, in your eye.
Come hold my hand, and laugh and cry
while we wonder who we are
and sleep among the stars,
and sleep among the stars.