Something Is Happening Under the Moon

Perpetual haze surrounds the city we'll walk until we reach our goal The urban scence in winter fills us with anticipation the winds chill us As streetlamps cut through the night like a sharp knife through bread Passing homes filled with warmth and mysterious alleyways where alleycats prowl It's not the destination which is the main thing It's the struggle to reach it which counts - weighs heavily tipping the scales of winter in our favor