The winter is long and dark as the moon stares down the earth
He glides over clouds to peak at the gods heart but it was black and burned,  
He sensed the way to reach glory along with flowers and gingerwine
But troubled with the heart of gods, his tongue was nervous as words might slip and yeild his hidden sin
The lonesome moon met my gods and prayed to their souls but senses were not dead for the eye
They said" it was heavy"