| Red, red moon. |
| Keep on rising
|
| The sunset soon indeed will bleed in my horizon
|
| The crescent rests, tethered to the west
|
| Waxing to the rhythm writhing in my chest
|
| That crack between the watercolor sky and sea is the
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| Corner where you’re born in the mist
|
| I might deride the tide, 'cause I’m pulled as it pools about my feet
|
| Towards your stolen light, while you’re holding my slight gravity
|
| Well, I walk the equator, chasing the light; |
| little do I know it orbits close
|
| behind
|
| I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
|
| In a red, red moon. |
| I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon
|
| Red, red moon. |
| When will your shadows break?
|
| Tell the truth; |
| what’re you hiding behind that face?
|
| If matter’s in then I might space out
|
| Why can’t I take in what you’ve been dishing out?
|
| Why do I reject while you endlessly reflect?
|
| You’re projecting your perfection astounds
|
| Nighttime, please hide my eyes, so the man up there won’t watch me stare
|
| Teach me to make moonshine, and we’ll get drunk on the spirits of the air
|
| Well, I walk the equator, chasing the light; |
| little do I know it orbits close
|
| behind
|
| I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
|
| In a red, red moon. |
| I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon
|
| The constellations form infinite paisleys in the sky
|
| The condensation tumbles down and erases all my sight
|
| And is it in the nightmare map of the cosmos up high?
|
| Or is it in the signs? |
| Or stranger still, just in my eyes?
|
| Well, I walk the equator, chasing the light; |
| little do I know it orbits close
|
| behind
|
| I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
|
| In a red, red moon. |
| I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon |