We paint this moon with smooth silk blue
and the stars with yellow and green
when the sun fades out to a frozen gloom
its a rainbow dream we see
the last snap took of this autumns breeze
before the clock struck twelve past nine
the little blurred hope on the fish-eye lens
still hanging on a broken line
the coffee stained script behind the piles of reels
and the frames on a fallen slide
now we stand each night, for the actions’ feed
coz this hope won't fade from sight
when the perfect fifth has gone from the chord
shall we strum this life to the pain?
When the dream is a song with few lines short
Shall we rhyme these smiles to a pace?
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