Una

Please don't moan, stifle your moonbeams, he’ll be home soon, a knife to our throats, we know where he’s been, does that keep us going, we just need a stone, to throw at the sea, an edge to hone, when we dance with ghosts, happy as queens, toasting our lot, when you see him alone, is that what you mean, like being lost, in his greatcoat, he once used to tease, our flyaway souls, maybe he dreams.