As the moon rises in the obsidian sky,
I look to the heavens and start to cry,
Then the skies’ tears begin to fall,
As if it could possibly understand me at all.
The sky has nothing to cry for and yet,
That only causes it to continue to fret,
It doesn’t want to be lonely again,
But then, it doesn’t know who to call it’s real friend.
The sky is alone, it almost never smiles,
But when the blue comes, a sun so bright beguiles
us with it’s beautiful brilliance.
The sky is strong, there are many worlds it holds,
Worlds that scream in pain from the cold,
Worlds crying out to a man that’s not here,
Worlds that are crying with a single tear.