Watching the moon, grey dust, hard stone. 
Why won’t the moon leave me alone?
I watch to see if the old man there, 
will he ever release me from his stare. 
I dream the moon will fall to earth, 
moon’s death rattle, our deadly curse.
 
The sun has got to do something about
that moonish sneer on that moon face snout
before kamikaze moon’s suicidal spiral 
rings our bells and rattles our bones,
shakes and quakes our earthly home.
Mr Moon up there is become one with hell,
the Devil’s doing, a catastrophic bombshell.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I watch the moon 
I must I must!