“Study the Moon” Lyrics

I ducked down the door of a poison oak party, detected the man many call Moriarty, concluded our crimes could entitle us to thirty, pulled out the beak of a beautiful birdie. I laughed on the floor where they spread the confetti, looked back on everything, like it was all. Like it was already.
All the love unsung must have some good enough tune; if I were worried about worthwhile, I would go study the moon.
I clacked down the cobwebbing city sky crescent, got cracked at and spat at and branded a peasant. Revoked me the right to appeal to a season – oh, but the fall was a leavesing, and the buzz really beesing! It all drowned me out, as parades and occasions bull by quiet china, and I. I can’t get no. I can’t get no sensations.
Gravity gets hold of me a little bit too soon, but if I were worried about weightless, I would go study the moon.
According to religion, there is someone I can call. According now to science, this is all my fault. According to the Big Blue Ox, I should just look up Paul. Accordingly, the consequence is a concert hall where everyone waves words, but no one thing resolves until they come and serve us from their wrecking ball. By then the chancellor goes and gets the infantry involved, the over-reaching economy creeping to a crawl. Accountants come to tie us to the town square totem poles!
I should really just go and study the moon.
So I made for the Georgia Avenue Salvation Army, got back with the man who had slain Moriarty, explained very slowly what I knew we were in for. He turned on me totally, said:
“So what’s all this hot tin for?”
“A distraction!” I exasperated, to blanket the stink of youth. “I am out of here!” (There are twelve gates out – twelve gates to the city…) “Holler soon!”
Now I paddle mumbling oceans as a lost reflected loon – but if I were worried about wide wings, I would go study the moon.
I would go study the moon.