I don’t think the moon has noticed me tonight, at least not yet
It pays attention to the layman’s serenade
And his lass while I fade as a smudge on this concrete driveway
I feel that bitter draft onset me subtly
Don’t bite back, don’t fight for me
Because the moon has not noticed me tonight, at least not yet
It sees the poet, the disclaimer,
The girl who does not know that I blame her
She does not know, not tonight, let her know tomorrow
But don’t bite back, don’t fight for what you can later borrow
—it might still exist. |