Stars and moonshine

and butterscotch,

slippery slide

from which you watch

the world stop spinning

and seeming to stand still

and time stare out

from the window sill.



Stars and moonshine

and butterscotch,

blurry glass

into which you watch

the fire and fury

as they burn away

all chance of hope

sitting on the ash tray.



Stars and moonshine

and butterscotch,

distant eyes

that simply watch

you as you stand

on the grinning roof

and look down under

and hear the "poof".



And, no, there is nothing

you can no longer do,

and all eyes

are now fixed on you.

All you can do

is simply watch

the stars and the moonshine

and the butterscotch.

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