On the longest of nights,
I crawl all alone with a stiff string guitar.
Every tune makes me feel naked,
And all chords soak my crying spell.
Pray! A vain hope; I chase the moon,
The side of the moon that is not cold.
Lo! Silver drinks and nights,
I dance to the beat of a rythmless love song.
Whirling myself in an eddies of fallen leaves,
I cried a millisecond too long.
Pray! A futile hope; I chase the moon,
The side of the moon that is not dark.
Shards of glass flowing out of my eyes,
I search my soul for an answer,
The last of the ones.
Alas! A barren hope; I chase the moon,
The side of the moon that are not cold and dark.