Sometimes the moon needs a rest too.
The moon hid itself from this night
the thought settled heavy with pain
slipped, for tonight, just out of sight
empty sky and death of a swain
twenty odd years just waiting for bliss
memories to keep or better to lose
case of cold beer and a soul kiss
dark, empty eyes always his muse
abashed, the moon is not here
stars unabashed shinning so bright
a stiff drink to wash his mind clear
the moon hid itself from this night
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