The moon so full,
Up and high.
I feel a thought,
In me pry,
It feels unreal,
To live this life,
When all around me,
Futility flys.

Who'd have thought,
That in this room,
I'd become a man,
By changing moods.
The beard, the voice,
The look so tall,
It makes you not,
More than a boyish brood.

The truth we seek,
Is in our souls,
Our heart it beats,
To it's rhythmic fall.
So hear it now,
Before you lie,
About the man,
You claim to die.