they say that when your idle
that's when them suicidal
thoughts, come crashing
like tidal waves, lashing
thrAsHinG
to and fro, the moon,
pulls them in, the waves
they form their own shapes,
all dark, all obscure
how to cure, the sick sea
the sick you, the sick me
-completely-
how to expel those shapes
those shapes that take,
you to that dark place
-outer space-
it's never dark
in outer space
what a waste (of light)
yes, the moon it pulls them in
waves and thoughts,
and slowly you begin
to sink, lunatic
moon, mourning lunar
no sooner, they leave you
the waves/ the shapes/
the thoughts: (abruptly)
what saves you then?
in a darkened room
with the lunatic moon,
watching over you, mourning lunar
(even sooner)
maybe that would explain
the nights,
the nights,
the pain
that claims the rights
that claims the rights
over your soul; behold
-how to be bold-
when you feel so tired
when you see so old
-to fold up eternity-
(to put it to rest/ foreverevereverever-)
(to put it to rest/ foreverevereverever-)
