remember back in Brooklyn late nights   we’d sneak up on the roof with flashlights   lie on our backs and count the stars      we’d talk all night about god and spaceships   and little laika, the first in orbit   and whether or not there might be life on mars      it used to be easy then to dream   it’s getting harder and harder to believe in anything      cause there’s nothing holding the stars up in the sky   no reason or rhyme to this life   nothing keeping us together you and i   ‘cept you and i   i think a heart is what you make of it   it’s not love if it doesn’t hurt a bit   if we just hold on tight we’ll get through this   you and i, i still believe in you and i      you used to hold my hand all the time   you’d get your fingers all laced through mine   like New York city streets through the avenues      up was up and down was down back then   the world was ours and everything made sense   we believed and we never needed proof      but baby i’m giving up on “meant to be”   i’m starting to think that all of that is just pretty poetry      cause there’s nothing holding the stars up in the sky   no reason or rhyme to this life   nothing keeping us together you and i   ‘cept you and i   i think a heart is what you make of it   it’s not love if it doesn’t hurt a bit   if we just hold on tight we’ll get through this   you and i, i still believe in you and i      there’d be no such thing as fate if it were up to me   go and leave the future to its mystery   we can make it      if there’s nothing holding the stars up in the sky   no reason or rhyme to this life   nothing keeping us together you and i   ‘cept you and i   well then a heart is what you make of it   and it’s not love if it doesn’t hurt a bit   if we just hold on tight we’ll get through this   you and I, i still believe in you and i