The suicidal optimist with his noisesome breath
watches the moon for shooting stars.
He talks a lot about it;
but everyone's seen Christ in the clouds.
Picks his way to an early death
with romantic subtitles
and a continental breakfast.
He halts his noisesome breath
and checks for excitement -
"Darling..." he whispers
"I must have you."
Your sob was like a thunderclap
Your sob was like a thunderclap
in the deep and ancient night.
And the stars did sigh
For servitude
in the deep and ancient night.
Clearing his head
whilst muddying the meter
He realises :
Jesus was an astronaut
Smoking zen by the fire.
And everything makes sense
in an unexpected moment
That he thought
would never come
And all our yesterday's lighted fools
the way to dusty death.