moonweed likes the dark. moonweed likes the drink.
moonweed likes the park. moonweed likes to think.
moonweed likes the day, but only when the sun won't shine.
moonweed likes steak, rare with a glass of wine.

moonweed likes rocks 'cause they stay where the worms go.
moonweed likes moonlight on freshly fallen snow.
moonweed likes the shiny things that sparkle and gleam,
moonweed likes likes his coffee black and never with cream.

moonweed's soul is dark as space
with stars therein to warm the place
and darkling stars, as we have said,
soothe his breast and calm his head.

g'night, folkes.