The Collection – Sing of the Moon
I’ve always been told we hold black holes inside
That know from the start that every star must die
But it seems too convenient to lose track of time
Now that you’re gone, will my orbit unwind?
What northern wind blew us into the street
And what fatal one will we all someday meet?
Swept into a palace with no sign of a king
No court for us jesters, but we like to
Sing of the moon as it sometimes get shy
Running from lovers through starry-eyed skies
Morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes
Nothing ever really dies, right?
Someone’s lighting candles all over my floor
And placed “holy of holy’s” through every door
But who are our doubts said to?
Some half of the evening knew of listening ears, long withdrew?
So we sing of the moon and the face that it hides
Shining just half of its truth to our skies
But bring me the sun that gives it all its light
I don’t want to just wait to die