At the dusk of the dreary daylapse, daylight’s endglow
I’m afflicted with that sinking semi-sorrow
It’s not enough to drown me
Just to wet my shoes
Soak my socks through
Enough to fill the back of my throat with the melody

I exist in wasted half-days, moonlight’s endless follow
It’s the time I, not enjoying, instead must always swallow
It’s a defeated sort of sadness
Loss, Lost, Lie.
I’m lonely and I can’t-- won’t say why
It’s not enough to compete with the collective unjoy’s caress
It’s just melancholy; a whisper fleeting, not a cry