The Moon Begins To Sing

I know why the sun escapes when evening blows a dark, dark breeze
From the moon, a thin string hangs, upon your throat, inside your legs
The string is pulled, it's cold without you
Into the sky, you wave goodbye, I turn away
Goodbye, goodbye

Up a tree, I climb and climb to build a treehouse in my mind
With golden leaves and silver floors, with sharpened sticks
I've built a prison

I escape into the mud to make a friend with a lost worm
Who tells me of the swaying throat, but from his throat, a thin string hangs

Now the moon begins to sing, and your skirts sway with the trees
The string is pulled, it's cold without you

I walk down the basement stairs, [?] he sits upon your chair
I gaze into fluorescent lights and close my eyes
Goodnight, goodnight