Alone and looking for that inner moon, find setting of the sun.
She's not yet there, but the orb of night is rising from her slum-
Buried in that part of space occupied only by my mind.
Lost in space, set adrift by play temporal and gravitational, mark the day.
It may be the last.
When the sun gets mad and starts to grow, you know it happens fast.
You know it eats the closer ones alive. You know it tries to burn the rest.
That shit's for real, it's mad as hell, it doesn't stop to take a breath.
But those that are far and alone in space see the rise of another thousand days.
Everyday.
No sun, no stars to blind themselves, no glow from which to turn.
No gravity, to push and pull to cause to drift away.
Lost in space, set adrift by play temporal and gravitational, mark the day.
It may be the last.
When the sun gets mad and starts to grow, you know it happens fast.
You know it eats the closer ones alive. You know it tries to burn the rest.
It doesn't stop to take a fuckin' breath.
But those that are far and alone in space see the rise of another thousand days.
Everyday.
No sun, no stars to blind themselves, no glow from which to turn.
No gravity, to push and pull to cause to drift away.
Those out there are factors more, countless quiet screaming.
Resonate at frequencies unseeming, undetectable.
Louder behind it all. The kind of stuff dogs can hear and maybe we can't.
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