Crooked sky

You left your jacket in my back seat Summer sand still in the seams Tiny seashell in the pocket Like proof the day was more than dream We are leftover constellations Dots of light that don’t connect right Scattered plans and half vacations Still we glow in a crooked sky Leftover constellations Faded maps on a wrinkled guide If I learn your orientation Could we fall in the same line Found your ticket in my old jeans Movie we both swore was bad Wrote your number on the stubs then Laughed and never called you back We are leftover constellations Dots of light that don’t connect right Scattered plans and half vacations Still we glow in a crooked sky Leftover constellations Faded maps on a wrinkled guide If I learn your orientation Could we fall in the same line Maybe chance is just a compass Spinning till the world feels kind If our orbits cross tomorrow Promise you’ll look up this time (hey) We are leftover constellations Dots of light that don’t connect right Scattered plans and half vacations Still we glow in a crooked sky Leftover constellations Faded maps on a wrinkled guide If I learn your orientation Could we fall in the same line