Shooting Star

Harry ChapinHarry Chapin 

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Harry Chapin

Harry Forster Chapin (December 7, 1942 – July 16, 1981) was an American singer-songwriter best known for his folk rock songs including "Taxi", "W*O*L*D", and the No. 1 hit "Cat's in the Cradle". Chapin was also a dedicated humanitarian who fought to end world hunger; he was a key player in the creation of the Presidential Commission on World Hunger in 1977. In 1987, Chapin was posthumously awarded the Congressional Gold Medal for his humanitarian work. more »

Year:

2010

4:08

86 Views

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He was crazy of course 
From the first she must have known it 
But still she went on with him 

And she never once had shown it 
And she took him off the street 
And she dried his tears of grieving 

She listened to his visions 
She believed in his believe-ins 

Oh, he was the sun burning bright and brittle 
And she was the moon shining back his light a little 
He was a shooting star 
She was softer and more slowly 

He could not make things possible 
But, she could make them holy 
He was dancing to some music 
No one else had ever heard 

He'd speak in unknown languages 
She would translate every word 
And then when the world was laughing 
At his castles in the sky 

She'd hold him in her body 
Till he once again could fly 
Oh, he was the sun burning bright and brittle 
And she was the moon shining back his light a little 

He was a shooting star 
She was softer and more slowly 
He could not make things possible 
But, she could make them holy 

Well, she gave him a daughter 
And she gave him a son 
She was a mother, and a wife, 
And a lover when the day was done 

He was too far gone for giving love 
What he offered in its stead 
Was the knowledge she was the only thing 
That was not in his head 

He took off East one morning 
Towards the rising sun's red glow 
She knew he was going nowhere 
But of course she let him go 

And as she stood and watched him dwindle 
Much too empty to be sad 
He reappeared beside her saying, 
"You're all I've ever had" 

Oh, he was the sun burning bright and brittle 
And she was the moon shining back his light a little 
He was a shooting star 
She was softer and more slowly 

He could not make things possible 
But, she could make them holy 
Holy

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