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Will Wood and the Tapeworms
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Red Moon
Red, red moon. Keep on rising.
The sunset soon indeed will bleed in my horizon.
The crescent rests, tethered to the west.
Waxing to the rhythm writhing in my chest.
That crack between the watercolor sky and sea is the
corner where you're born in the mist.
I might deride the tide, 'cause I'm pulled as it pools about my feet.
Towards your stolen light, while you're holding my slight gravity.
Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind.
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon.
Red, red moon. When will your shadows break?
Tell the truth; what're you hiding behind that face?
If matters in then I might space out,
why can't I take in what you've been putting out?
Why do I reject while you endlessly reflect?
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While you're projecting your perfection astounds
Nighttime, please hide my eyes, so the man up there won't watch me stare.
Teach me to make moonshine, and we'll get drunk on the spirit of the air.
Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind.
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon.
The constellations form infinite paisleys in the sky
The condensation tumbles down and erases my sight
And is it in the nightmare map of the cosmos up high?
Or is it in the signs? Or stranger still, just in my eyes?
Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind.
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon.
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