The Park is empty, sacked by the Moon
Her tears are void, sealed behind the bars
You are
working on it
You may
get through it
You should
take the blame for it
All in the midst of stinking mushrooms
Hall of the shame in immerging clouds
Shattered moonlight with a ragged flagon
Battered crown on a clown's skull
The Moon shall vanish
The Park will prosper
with the smiling sunlight
against the decaying moonlights...
