the moon in my city,  
a hazy crestfallen hue,

those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...  

the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,

wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!

the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,  

paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!

the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,

it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,

for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,

look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!

the moon in my city,  
the moon in my city...