The clouds are dappled on the sky tonight
And my daughter thinks I'm a prick.
The moon, oh the f ucking moon
What's a poet to say about the moon?
He could just cop out.
My daughter thinks I'm a prick.
Just say she's right.
The moon's just a satellite
Envious of the earth
Tugging at the sea.
That's awful.
My daughter thinks I'm a prick
Fallen hero staring at the moon
In an unattended garden
That's a given.
It's hard to judge on the inside.
But the moon looks bright tonight.
Twat.