Lady lent down frost and silver moonbeams,
made my mind green, call it lost.
Call and ask if I'm thankful, all is lost,
lady found my metal core where she hides away.

I might have loved her, but I justly can't say,
when a man is far from home it is not quite his tomb.
Remind me of the liquid earth, not of the cars,
then shall my own half-moon rise for one night,
over the dunes.