The Moon Is Dead
Another lonely wait for morning.
I wish that you were here.
Another slice of rest to help me
forget.
Forget.
Forget.
Another echo of a memory
in the shadow of my mind.
Another winter dream to haunt me
again.
Again.
Again.
The stars are high
over snow.
The grass is silver,
the trees are red.
The clouds are white
as Earth below me
but the moo-oon
is dead.
(solo)
And in the summer heat around me
I feel as cold as any clay.
Another shiver of existence here
today.
Today.
Today.
Because the only world I visit
is the frozen one inside
and in the memory of winter
I live.
I live.
I live.
The stars are high
over snow.
The grass is silver,
the trees are red.
The clouds are white
as Earth below me
but the moo-oon
is dead.
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