I take strength from them
the mice are scratching inside the walls
I resign myself to the trees
as I move further into the forest, I'm forgotten
The Moon is a clock
I am revealed within, pale skin
a part of me stayed in the city
trapped
it makes me docile needy and wrapt
The moon is a clock
that my clouds often block
I resign myself to the trees
I take strength from them
they will struggle through winter with me
I have no faith in flesh
I love
They move below above
the trees wear the earth like a sock
The Moon is a clock
as I lay in the meadow
the grass covers me quickly
the taste of blessed sanctuary becomes sickly
I stare at chipped paint on floorboards
wrap cold knuckles on a dead door
I resign myself
The Moon is a clock
the clouds fluffy socks
we will struggle through winter
I will die in my own little world
this big one a backdrop
The Moon is a clock
As I move further into the forest
the bare trees become more honest
I take strength from them
they are here with me
I have no faith in flesh
the mice are scratching inside the walls
the leaves fall
this blessed sanctuary becomes a trap
my cold knuckles wrap
on a dead door
chipped paint on floorboards
I resign myself to the trees
and The Moon is a clock
