O I hate the moon
O I love the moon
How she comes and goes and comes again
Heaven's mystery
in female form
Vanishing again, as if by design
Leaving nothing but slivers like a blade
And just when I've grown used to her absence
When I no longer expect to see her hanging in the night
when I don't expect to be engulfed in her soft sweet light
When I say, oh, I don't need the moon
not anymore, she's gone, I'm fine
Just when I say these things to the point
I almost believe them
I'll turn a corner in some canyon at dawn
and she will, again, burst into my life
Low in the western sky
full and bright and sweet as the promise of the day
giving one last kiss
and again, she slips away
O how I hate the moon
because I love her so
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