Bitter Moon

avant-garde progressive rock, psychedelic art-rock, experimental post-punk

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[INTRO — free time]

[VERSE 1 — 5/4, tense and angular]
A bottle slept beneath the quilt,
Green glass, black ink, a sealed-up bruise.
I watched it like a loaded gun,
A cure for days that came undone.
Its borrowed words began to crawl,
Like little judges on the wall.
I hid the sun inside a drawer,
And heard the child knock at the door.

[PRE-CHORUS — 7/8, gradually accelerating]
The elder wore the future’s grin,
I paid my silence to get in.
We called it growing, called it grace,
While fear rehearsed behind the face.

[CHORUS — 3/4 waltz, slower and wider]
Raise the bitter moon, let it shine,
Turn our little wounds to wine.
Spin, spin — nothing stays whole,
Toast the ghost inside the soul.
Wake, wake — welcome to the cold.

[Instrumental]

[VERSE 2 — 5/4, heavier guitars and irregular accents]
A paper king climbed toward the light,
Sold every compass for a height.
The quiet girl refused the dance,
Her eyes locked shut against romance.
We stabbed the cork; it gave a sigh,
Pink rain baptized the alibi.
The wine was acid, black and bright —
We drank the flaw to feel alright.

[PRE-CHORUS — 7/8, drums becoming almost martial]
At midnight, painted voices spoke
Through television’s tired smoke.
We spilled into the powdered street
To chase a joy with borrowed feet.

[CHORUS — 3/4 waltz, full band]
Raise the bitter moon, let it shine,
Turn our little wounds to wine.
Spin, spin — nothing stays whole,
Toast the ghost inside the soul.
Wake, wake — welcome to the cold.

[BRIDGE — shifting 11/8 into 6/8]
Then midnight lent me one slow hand,
And pulled me from the frozen land.
The room revolved, the years grew thin,
A locked-out constellation let me in.
The snow fell soft as counterfeit wings,
The dark wore bells, the silence sings.
By morning, every spell was gone —
But something in me staggered on.

[FINAL CHORUS — 3/4, first half nearly whispered, then explosive]
Raise the bitter moon, let it shine,
Turn our little wounds to wine.
Spin, spin — nothing stays whole,
Toast the ghost inside the soul.
Wake, wake — welcome to the cold.

[OUTRO — fragmented, slowing down]
"Bitter… bitter…
Nothing stays whole.
Bitter… bitter…
Still the ghost drinks from the soul."

[Fade]

[End]

2202/7500

[INTRO — free time] [VERSE 1 — 5/4, tense and angular] A bottle slept beneath the quilt, Green glass, black ink, a sealed-up bruise. I watched it like a loaded gun, A cure for days that came undone. Its borrowed words began to crawl, Like little judges on the wall. I hid the sun inside a drawer, And heard the child knock at the door. [PRE-CHORUS — 7/8, gradually accelerating] The elder wore the future’s grin, I paid my silence to get in. We called it growing, called it grace, While fear rehearsed behind the face. [CHORUS — 3/4 waltz, slower and wider] Raise the bitter moon, let it shine, Turn our little wounds to wine. Spin, spin — nothing stays whole, Toast the ghost inside the soul. Wake, wake — welcome to the cold. [Instrumental] [VERSE 2 — 5/4, heavier guitars and irregular accents] A paper king climbed toward the light, Sold every compass for a height. The quiet girl refused the dance, Her eyes locked shut against romance. We stabbed the cork; it gave a sigh, Pink rain baptized the alibi. The wine was acid, black and bright — We drank the flaw to feel alright. [PRE-CHORUS — 7/8, drums becoming almost martial] At midnight, painted voices spoke Through television’s tired smoke. We spilled into the powdered street To chase a joy with borrowed feet. [CHORUS — 3/4 waltz, full band] Raise the bitter moon, let it shine, Turn our little wounds to wine. Spin, spin — nothing stays whole, Toast the ghost inside the soul. Wake, wake — welcome to the cold. [BRIDGE — shifting 11/8 into 6/8] Then midnight lent me one slow hand, And pulled me from the frozen land. The room revolved, the years grew thin, A locked-out constellation let me in. The snow fell soft as counterfeit wings, The dark wore bells, the silence sings. By morning, every spell was gone — But something in me staggered on. [FINAL CHORUS — 3/4, first half nearly whispered, then explosive] Raise the bitter moon, let it shine, Turn our little wounds to wine. Spin, spin — nothing stays whole, Toast the ghost inside the soul. Wake, wake — welcome to the cold. [OUTRO — fragmented, slowing down] "Bitter… bitter… Nothing stays whole. Bitter… bitter… Still the ghost drinks from the soul." [Fade] [End]

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