Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress   She tops off his cup while she's snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift   Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs   She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars      And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops   The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront   And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart   And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars      They fall from the sky, they run round your head   They litter your sleep as they beckon   They'd teach you to fly without wires or thread   They promise if only you'd let them      For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart   Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars      Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen   Celestial companions `til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened   And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard   It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars   Ideas are like stars