The Moon Was a Kite

How can you tell? You call it a fear. I call it 'electric', and hold it quite dear. Scratch it all out, and scratch it within. Over your faces, under my skin. The sky is a blindfolded mess The clouds flicker past like they're hiding something. The stars are just pricks in the sky And the moon was a kite until some cunt snipped its string. And all but too soon, the colours all fade And I can't tell your browns from your green or your grey. They're not all the same, they're not uniform. Stop with the collecting together in swarms. I can't feel a thing as you slit. And the lotus seeds taunts me (I know where they've come from) Halcyon's not even a word The moon was a cut, but it seems to be healing well. I'm over the moon, I'm sick of its games And finally my enemy has a name. And I will not stop, till I've scratched you all out And I'll finally see what you're really about. The sun needs no excuses to shine And the faces it beams on seem microscopic. The stars are just pricks in the sky And the moon was a kite until some cunt snipped its string.