Moonlight.
When it’s half past two,
And you go out to smoke a cigarette,
(Or something else; smoke ’em if you got em, no?)
And the moon is a pearl in the heavens,
The sky so clear that each star
Is visible, enough to drive out
To some park just to marvel
At the majesty of whatever forces
Gave us this shit,
That’s the reason to stay in it.
Destructive Anachronism 