Seven seconds pass by, under your fingers

as the moon takes hold of me.

So shall I, by fate, destiny and the like,

Come down from the stars to kiss thee lately


And partake of thee as one would a sweet wine,

or perhaps, given my road and old testaments,

Instead, pull you by your conviction,

Into the off color center of the paper moon


And still yet I, will be dreamless

For our thousand year reunion.

and should you perhaps forget our tryst,

I shall still be singing


Even if my consequence is that my discolored

halo shall come down to choke me, and

contort my spine in such a way that it gives me,

against my will, a perverse look


And for these crimes, I beg thee

Give me broken wings to fly

and not but for one night allow me pardon

And grant me eternity