|View single post by daniel p.|
|Posted: Sun Jul 31st, 2011 11:07 pm||
| Fly me high before I die,
so I can meet the moon.
When her silver rays are ‘gainst my chest,
I’ll press my lips up to her crest,
into her valleys.
Fly me high before I die,
so I can take the moon back.
She used to be
a part of me;
until the cosmos set her free,
which left a sea
where she should be
which cast her cold
and out of reach.
It pushed me off my axis.
I’ve turned my back
against the sun;
I spin to see my moon by night.
Though I know
we can’t be one,
I spin to keep her in my sight.
I spin to fight what I can’t fight:
that a spin can’t bring her back tonight.
Just fly me high before I die,
so I can go back to that time.
That time where moon and I were fine.
That time that that damn moon was mine
Before that goddamn moon caused tides
To swell within me while I cry and sit
and wait to die.
But not before you fly me high.
So, fly me high before I die,
so I can turn my cold moon warm,
so I can make her blush once more
and settle cosmic scores.
Last edited on Tue Aug 2nd, 2011 05:01 am by daniel p.