Music of the Moon - Martha Tilston

You throw down the blanket, say, «let's sit here for a while, I’ll find a way

to open this wine,»

The fishermen are silhouetted by the almond moon, the pendulum above,

the absence of time,

And the ink black sea gurgled around you and me, I remember it because we were

lagooned,

Then you hand me the guitar and I say, «look I’ve really nothing to play,»

The greyhound clouds race across the sky and you say, «just play the music of

the moon, the music of the moon…»

I wondered where you came from as I rose in your arms from deep deep sleep

today,

if love is measured by the kissing of your eyelids then I should kiss them

every day, and I mean EVERY day.

And the ink black sea closed in around you and me,

And the ink black sea closed in around you and me,

And the ink black sea closed in around you and me, I remember it,

Because we were lagooned

So hand me the guitar, I say, «there's something that I must play,»

The greyhound clouds race across the sky and we spend hours and hours and hours

just playing the music of the moon, the music of the moon…

You throw down the blanket, say, «let's sit here for a while, I’ll find a way

to open this wine,»

The fishermen are silhouetted by the almond moon, the pendulum above,

the absence of time…