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Above the dark highways on a black tar roof |
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Stood the Sad Milkman in love with the moon |
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She filled up his window with soft milky light |
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'Til he crawled up the chimney and into the night |
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But the moon she rises and the moon she falls |
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And her slow white eye sees nothing at all |
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Down on the sidewalks a crowd gathered 'round |
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Flinging up bricks and bottles to knock the boy down |
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He stood up above them with his hands in the air |
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Calling up to the moonbeams, "Come let down your hair!" |
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But the moon she rises and the moon she falls |
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And her slow white eye sees nothing at all |
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He wanted to feel like a bucket of milk |
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Or sweet summer wind on rolling green hills |
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He wanted to fly up from the roof |
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Sailing up from the night wind to the arms of the moon |
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But the moon she rises and the moon she falls |
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And her slow white eye sees nothing at all |
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But the moon she rises and the moon she falls |
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And her slow white eye sees nothing at all |
