Cut Crescent Moon

Soft strumming in the light
of a crescent cut moon
Let me paint you a scene
I need you to
Taste the colour in each octave
Lick the volume from your lips
Strike me a chorus from nothing
Strike me alight with your eyes

I could sing you sweet songs
Of an old tragic love
Or I could sing you sweet songs
Of an epic push and shove
But I just want to sharpen
My classical axe
Play you some classical gas
And let it be

Tight, taunt and ready,
Go send sparks to the wick
Let my flames grow now higher
Let the pyre grow not sick
Then send them afloat in succession
Onto the frigid, frothy ocean
And listen close to my confession
As I weave it through the smoke

Stuck to the satin humming
Sewn into a canopy of night
You're now part of the scene
I need you to
Savour the story in each note
Lip every ballad aloud
Strike me a course into nothing
Strike me a light for my eyes

-- Stefan Phillips, February, 2005.

Back