The red of the moon and green of the sky
And a darker shadow that pass by
All the ways you've gone to see
The illusions those are hard to be
Nothing is like this one though
heart with and arrow from bow
The moment you think you have the balm
You've started to burn and wounds have begun
The sweetness of a face and soothing of a
promises of a phase and making a pact..
All tend to dust as you approach the desert
Where life is a mirage and its 'moments' are illusions....