Singing The Wrong Moon Song

Sitting here alone on the floor beside my bed

My thoughts are claiming victims in my head

All about the stillness inside this room

Is illuminated by the moon

I said to my lover I will be returning soon

I lied again beneath the winter moon

I said to my lover I will be singing our tune

But I sang a different song under the moon

It goes like: “I’m a sightless sorter

With a profound disorder

Everything without order

I am holding at the border

All the things like a hoarder

Buried deep in the mortar”

Sitting here by my bedside table on the floor

I have oft been called words that rhyme with door

All about the stillness inside of this little room

Is illuminating all the lies under my moon

I promised my lover I would be returning soon

I deceived again underneath the winter moon

I said to my lover I will always sing our tune

But I sang a different song under the moon

It sounds like: “I’m a sightless sorter

With a profound disorder

Everything without order

I am holding at the border

All the things like a hoarder

Buried deep in the mortar

All my victims piled up high

Like a macabre wall to the sky

I just like leaving them to die

Let ‘em all hang out to dry

They ask why; I don’t know why

I just like to hear them cry”

My room is lonely and it’s silent

Some say I should just repent

If I did I’d feel I’m sorry

But, I know that I’m not sorry

I promised my lover I would be returning soon

I deceived again underneath the winter moon

I said to my lover I will always sing our tune

But I sang a different song under the moon

It sounds like: “I’m a sightless sorter

With a profound disorder

Everything without order

I am holding at the border

All the things like a hoarder

Buried deep in the mortar

All my victims piled up high

Like a macabre wall to the sky

I just like leaving them to die

Let ‘em all hang out to dry

They ask why; I don’t know why

I just like to hear them cry”

Sitting by the window on this floor

The moon is calling me a whore

I may not know what I did it for

I just know I’ve done this before

Promising lovers I’d come home soon

Leave them alone beneath their moon

I promise them I’ll sing their tune

Just so I can sing beneath another moon

Singing songs like “I’m a sightless sorter

With a profound disorder

Everything without order

I am holding at the border

All the things like a hoarder

Buried deep in the mortar

All my victims piled up high

Like a macabre wall to the sky

I just like leaving them to die

Let ‘em all hang out to dry

They ask why; I don’t know why

I just like to hear them cry

I’m a sightless sorter

With a profound disorder

I like walls made of torture

I hold them at the border

Pile them high like a hoarder

Buried deep in the mortar

All my victims way up high

Like a macabre wall to the sky

I sit to watch them die

Beneath a moonlit sky

I can’t tell you why

I just like to hear them cry”

by: Elizabeth Azpurua