Above the dark highways
on a black tar roof
stood the sad milkman
in love with the moon
She filled up his window
with soft milky light
so he climbed up the chimney
and into the night
But the moon she rises
and the moon she falls
and her slow white eye
sees nothing at all
Down on the sidewalk
a crowd gathered round
throwing up bricks and bottles
to knock the boy down
He stood up above them
with his hands in the air
crying up to the moonbeams,
"Come let down your hair."
But the moon she rises
and the moon she falls
and her slow white eye
sees nothing at all
He wanted to feel like
a bucket of milk
or sweet summer wind
on rolling, green hills
He wanted to fly
up from the roof
up through the night wind
to the arms of the moon
But the moon she rises
and the moon she falls
and her slow white eye
sees nothing at all
But the moon she rises
and the moon she falls
and her slow white eye
sees nothing at all