Oh, don't let the moon get you down.
That peculiar moon just knows how to frown.
On their fingertips was secured a string
so they didn't forget the fibs they'd foreseen.
The sailor was sinking, his words went unsaid.
He pleaded a promise, regrettably dead.
And yet, he had the most beautiful eyes.
We were the sailors, and we rode the sea.
We tossed out the midnight and we floated free.
I'm promised perfection when I let him go.
I drowned a thousand times.
My love let me die.
The sailors were swallowed in the maelstrom that night.
In these parts, you see, hurricanes aren't polite.
He'd just take his umbrella and climb to the sun,
and rest in remorse, as the love was undone.
He's too much of a coward to croon out his faith.
He's much too irate to believe in a fate.
That afterward calm harbored no hope,
for midnight was fancy that sank like a boat.