I cant help but stare at the moon, i left you far too soon it was after your day and before mine, i remember it was somewhere in june.
And the roads were dusty the mirrors were foggy but everything else was in tune,
The glass sat on the table where id handle it later, and the night sky was more black than blue.
Eyes irritated id sat and i waited for someone to show me the truth.
The silhouette of a woman appeared in the distance but i knew that she wasn't you.
She caressed my face with her hands and I tasted the bitter sweet pulp of the gloom.
As i stared at the yarrow, who'd be dead tomorrow, but i knew for a fact was in bloom.
Engulfed by the waves of uncertainty, drowning and urning, like a chld in the womb.
Only a fetus, but murdered for jesus, and buried in Solomons tomb.