The Moon

The moon hangs its head
Over old, crooked rooftops
A familiar friend;
You sit by the donut shop
As i drive home
From work…
As i drive
Home from
Work…

O full moon
Much more than a sliver!
You’ve improved—
So increasingly clever
I can hardly see
What you’ve done to me

When i get home
You’re still there above me
I gaze into your glow—
Your silence is chilling
Like there’s nothing left
To know—
It’s unexplainable

O full moon
Much more than a sliver!
You’ve improved—
So increasingly clеver
I can hardly see
What you’ve done to mе

You’ve waited for me
Since i was but a child
You spoke unto my grief
With the words of the dying
I’m left without a choice—
What’s a singer without a voice?

O full moon
Much more than a sliver!
You’ve improved—
So increasingly clever
I can hardly see
What you’ve done to me

The moon hangs its head
Over old crooked rooftops
As i quietly tread
To my eternal resting spot
I’ll die without a word—
I will die without a word