Far

Music dripping off the moon like sin
Taking form of lips, pursed in concentration
Weaving around the frost like lost memories
And the footprints can't follow,
Because they still don't know where they're wandering to.

The imagination kills the soul
When the mind decides it wants something else too;
And when a boy loves a girl, the words get lost in
The thick facade of flattery, illiteracy, and the pregnancy
Of silence that doesn't know when to end

Saccharine eyes batting away at the decayed face
Of too many untold lies, and not enough truth
And if there was truth, it got swallowed up
By the constancy of waiting
And the suffering of thinking the world's a joke

Loners feel the sin; the moonlight too
And lovers wake under the glow (it drains)
Running, running away towards shame and something better
Than living conditions filled with uncertainty.
Save it for the weekend, sweetheart.