On the blue fringe

Next time you walk under the moon
you'll see the blue in your shadow.

That's what you told me, and I draped your words
around my shoulders.

Melancholy seems to be in the air tonite,
I feel it rolling in with the rain.
Sadness chases it like cold beer
chases the pedantic burn of my whiskey.
but for him, it's strictly straight, no chaser.

And those trains...

I hear them come nightfall, just past a steel wind.
It's that kind of night I guess, cold and clear,
and a little more bitter than it used to be.
Lonely trains to nowhere, twilight shadows, my head
just as full as the moon.

My mind wanders in oblivious gardens; I find you there,
kiss you hard under a mottled sky,
hoping you'll hold me tightly so I don't drift away
when the sun sets fire to our most cherished decadence.