The moon in the sky is a peach
That dropped in and bounced out of the bleach.
I'd go if I could.
I hope that you would.
So let's gaze at the stars and let's dream.
We lay on our backs and we stare
Past the trees and the dust in the air
What's up with the moon?
It's orange, not blue.
It's the end of the world--I'm scared.
The moon hides behind its big brother
To get out of the glare of its mother
It'd rather be seen
In a faint orange gleam
Than to be drowned in her kisses and smother
A sign of the end of the times:
The moon is a fat copper dime.
So turn back to God
You ignorant sod
And don't be the one left behind.
I hope you enjoyed these weak rhymes,
That they feel on your lips like cheap wine.
Now, I know the truth--
So don't disabuse
By complaining I've wasted your time.
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