Beneath a wavering artificial moon Columbine leers with her lips the tune of nudity Pretty boy, her breasts like cloven hoofs Forget the cigarette bu*ts of her words Reverting to the last voracity What moon has ever crossed this eroded sky? From the stench of bad crossed music Columbine's once hair is lewd as s**ing serpents Come and I will touch the sun that was never innocence Clutching only my nerves and this rusted, dusty rail But what moon has ever crossed this eroded sky? But by the banks of creeks the early summer sun Is warm and innocent with doves That is this one reality And my nerves are dust and the dust in her mouth is vile Only the moon – aching sad moon Grace as pierrot, sings out of tune to the rails and the dove But what moon has ever crossed this eroded sky? But by the banks of creeks the early summer sun Is warm and innocent with doves That is this one reality