There is no sound upon the moon…no ether for the waves to move…
no shouting I hate you, Hate you too. What would be the point?
Both our stupid mouths would open, realize exactly no one’d
listened to the shit we’d spoken. Nothing more to prove.
There ain’t no gravity in space, ‘cept round some planets sparsely placed,
so if we cried our tears would trace a billion different paths.
If I was mean or you made me cry then both our eyes would be
like sparklers on new years eve, exploding in the black.
There is no night upon a star; a seamless day, a single dawn.
A light that just burns on and on will eat itself in time.
Without a care to make it through, we’d live a love that just consumed
us both. There’s no more me, no you, for passion can’t survive.
There is no time inside of light, for at that speed the clock unwinds:
the future is the past is right now there’s only this.
So we could lay our bodies down, count every star, trace every cloud,
let the scattered moments compound…we would just exist.
A black hole has no answer and no math that lets you understand
what escapes and what just can’t find its way back home.
So as we pull each other in and gauge the place where each begins
we’d find the balancing depends on things we’ll never know.
All that lives outside our bond -the stars, the moon, and space beyond-
are simply mirrors built upon reflections of our dreams.
So when our love is put to sleep -there’s no more you, there’s no more me-
the end will stretch on endlessly, forever in between
all the hateful things we said, every cloud that’s overhead,
a perfect sun that never set, and tears that floated through
a wave of light where time was stopped, the blackest hole in which it’s caught,
where half escapes and half does not…there’ll still be me and you.