You got lost on the way and wound up at the planetarium, paid five bucks for the headphones and buried yourself in their stereo. Now it’s dark and there are a billion stars in the sky. The planetarium’s a pretty good place to hide.
The stars up above us are the brightest, the astronomers all say, but where they are is darkness, and where you are is radiant day. Forgive me if effect and cause are mixed up in my mind. The planetarium’s a pretty good place to hide.
If you ceased to shine your light on me, then surely I would die. My heart would freeze over and over and over into my eyes. When I’m with you, heaven and earth collide. The planetarium’s a pretty good place to hide.
A lot of people wish that they were red alert, whoa. A lot of people wish that they were cheap as dirt, whoa. I’d like to thank you for the comforts that you have always provided for me. And I’m sorry that there’s something I still can’t bring myself to believe.
A lot of people call you hypocritical, whoa. I guess that’s why you are so irresistible, whoa. I’d like to thank you for your confidence, but I’m sure I’ll do all right all the same. So don’t chain me to your conflict. The revolution fights on anyway.
We boxed the Civic and we wound up feeling pretty good, whoa. We bought the tickets after cruising round the neighborhood, whoa. But when the lights went down and the laser show started, we were still sitting side by side. There’s only so far that we ever could have parted, and the planetarium’s a pretty good place to hide.