The man on the moon
Speaks in muffled tones
And speaks of that star
That wasn’t a star at all
The one that moved only when
We walked in one big circle,
That day that smoke rose
When you lit those leaves on fire
When the snow made a mud
More glorious then the spring
Could ever bring.
That star was too bright to be a star
But not bright enough to bring us
Down to our knees.
The spaceman wouldn’t tell us
What that light was
And maybe we were
Never really looking for an answer,
But more for a reason.
Because an answer is never cemented in truth
And that star that wasn’t really a star
Was never really cemented in the sky.
And that look underneath those trees that you gave me,
Was never cemented in a reality I could understand.