Blue Moon

The Blue Moon,
Holding a straight line.
Cruising like a fungus through time,
And to define it all
I would have to know them better
The creatures of my mind.
How can one escape his own mind?
The Blue Moon
In presence of red wine
Hiding in its gown a disgrace
Yet in it’s face
You can see the marks of living,
Harrowed by the light.
How did it start, why must we fight?
Ooh…
Lying still in the cool, green grass on this summer night.
The pale grey moon turning blue on me in a strange delight, lush and bright
A Blue Moon,
Holding a straight line.
Cruising like a fungus through time
And to define it all
I would have to know them better
The creatures of my mind.
How can one escape his own mind?
Hiding here in the quiet night,
with my goblins twisting and turning.
The big blue moon shifting colors now,
yellow and burning.
Lush and bright.