the sparkling shiny silver crescent
is hanging low on
the deep dark blue ceiling
i wonder when did i start to like the night?
i used to be so scared of the solemn solitary
and the haunting mysterious feeling
now all that left is
the urge to dance in the dusk
along those streets where the lights are dim
there ain't no you, no him, no other self than
me, myself, and i
the story is about to begin.