The moon looks so lonely.
The stars are so far away.
They have no words to say
To a hunk of earthly rock.

I am an invalid down here;
Ghost water trickles innocently
From glacial eyes that are
Opened wide from mellowed fear

Stars waltz out of the sky.
They point, they laugh, they mock,
And it is sad the way they do so.

Sometimes I wish I could fly,
Defy the physics of earthly clocks,
So that I could go to the moon and restore its glow.

Lonely words on paper sing
Black ink sways to and fro
I staple the sheets to hand them in
At nine o’clock tomorrow

Lonely words on paper sing
Praises of a higher kind, although
These fall off their papery wings
Down they spiral, down they go

And hell it burns these wondrous things
Lonely words on paper lie
So for their errors, for their sins
Consumed by flame, their praises die

Sweet, juicy, crunchy apples;
Dark red roses
With petals as soft as love's sensitive skin.

(And black poison.)
(And black thorns.)

Good.
Bad.
A very thin line.