Ghost Of The Crescent Moon

The moon looks to the ocean
The ocean looks to the sand
On a dune sits a woman
With five roses in hand

And she plucks every color
And she counts every thorn
And she cries out to starlight
With every passing storm

Won't someone save me, i've been waiting here for so long
Please take these tears carefully
And write my name across your shores

Castaways at daybreak
Floating on separate scores
A withered rose won't save them
A candle burned out long ago

Nothing matters now,
Take this summer rain
And wash your heart
Magic tiresome place
Where you put all your fears
Have locked their doors

The moon looks to the ocean
The ocean looks to the sand
On a dune sits a woman
With five roses in hand