You sit there biding your time
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out of your head and into your mind
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Penning thoughts that are dreams in action
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A glass raised to an absent muse
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a boy stands in his father’s shoes
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And a drunk man smiles at a thistle
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under a Poet’s moon
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Under a Poet’s moon there’s a life sign burning
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A Poet’s moon like a vision shining and
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The lovers lie in the long grass, stolen flowers make their bed
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Under a Poet’s moon there are dreams in action,
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prayers met and questions answered
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as the world whirls in the darkness
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I’m still staring at the skies under a Poet’s moon
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A night black as hoodlo’s eye,
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the sparks fly from a tinker’s fire
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As the stories burn among us under a Poet’s moon
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A seed falls onto stony ground
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without a hope and without a sound
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From the weeds will grow the flowers under a Poet’s moon
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Under a Poet’s moon, there’s a salmon settling
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In a guddler’s hand that is patient waiting
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Like a lover’s touch, to charm the life
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His fingers play the reeds
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Under a Poet’s moon there’s a whistle blowing
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out in no mans land
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Where a flare is falling in a deadly night
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The dreamers stand like flowers in a storm
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Flowers in the storm, we are flowers in the storm
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Under a Poet’s moon
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You sit there biding your time
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out of your head and into your mind
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Penning thoughts that are dreams in action
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A cross made in a polling booth
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another flies in a field of blue
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and a drunk man smiles at a thistle
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under a Poet’s moon
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Under a Poet’s moon there are angels crying, dead men born
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And devils laughing and the dance goes on regardless till
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You’re carried from the floor
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Under a Poet’s moon there are dreams in action
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Prayers met and questions answered as the world whirls in the darkness
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I’m still staring at the skies, staring at the skies, we’re still staring at the skies
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under a Poet’s moon |