The moon rises and will fall,
Help is not my real call.
I’m not what you really think,
Life goes past in just a wink.
I see the moon high above,
For this do I owe my love,
Like a ball in the sky,
Watching as you walk by.
He holds my dreams and fear,
Keeps everything so very clear.
Bright as a teardrop of pain,
The moon always rises again.
Like your dreams it’s out of reach,
Bright and sinless out with bleach.
Dark and desolate is the night,
Yet the moon still stays bright.
5/19/89