i met him at a masquerade, a silly place
where people do not need names.

wearing the mystery of the night,
dancing under the raw spotlight,
his honey lips, his indecisive eyes
were feeding innocent souls with lies.

but then i saw him, at midnight,
alone and hidden with his one light
-the lonely moon, the queen of dead
in front of whom his cheeks turned red.

he was just a tragic moonlover
when the masquarade was over.
oh, that poor disguised angel
made falling in love seem so fatal...