Long goddamn car ride, late at night, not even the radio.
We could talk. We talk a lot. But only certain things you hear.
I watch the moon as we drive dark country roads, one little light.
I let it’s bone dry luminescence wash away unshed tears.
The world is spinning into death, but you put the blame on victims.
High in the sky you look down, just jerk telling me I have it coming.
The good times, the times when I’m glad we are friends are fading,
as more and more you tell me the knife to my throat is a kiss from God.
But the moon is a woman, faithful and bright, the real eye of paradise.
Angels fucked off elsewhere, and demons all to intimate in your dreams.
And friends become uncaring, strangers who are only there to preach.
But the moon is bright, even as she fades, even as friendship burns to ashes.