Little Red Moon hanging in the sky.
Like a squirrel's heart that beats -
three times a second.
Like mine when I see you.
Like the kick drum in this song.
Hanging there like it's nailed to a post.
Hanging there like you should hang your head.
The senses can't apprehend what the heart can't comprehend, what you can't say even to itself, when you're Staring at that moon.
Little red moon.
Like a squirrel's heart that beats -
beats three times a second.