the moon is out and glowing

with fangs of silver light

it comes clawing at me

all thought the night

the moon is a wretched beast

a haunting, vacant soul

calling to me, whispering to me

forever more.

the moon is a dying whore

left on her knees

sees nothing she wants

wants nothing she pleases

the moon is a tempest bleeding

life into the rain

sacrificing her light

for the sun's wicked game.