Moon's Torn Fabric

Tonight, the Andes hold their breath, a cold, hard knot.
My own tongue’s tangled, what's been said and what is not.
The old house sleeps, its roof a patchwork, frayed and thin,
While shadows lengthen, pulling all the secrets in.

[Chorus]
Oh, Luna, you’re the weaver of this lonely, bitter thread,
Listening to the words I swear I've never truly said.
Your light, a needle, sharp and cold, that pierces through the night,
Witness to the patterns torn, beyond all human sight.

[Verse 2]
The damp earth hums, a memory of roots too deep to break,
But city silence weaves a cloak, for every choice I make.
I mend the day with gossamer, a brave and fragile lie,
While hidden grief, a dark stain, waits beneath the sky.

[Chorus]
Oh, Luna, you’re the weaver of this lonely, bitter thread,
Listening to the words I swear I've never truly said.
Your light, a needle, sharp and cold, that pierces through the night,
Witness to the patterns torn, beyond all human sight.

[Bridge]
A jagged tear within the dark, where lunar silver bleeds,
Reveals the knots I’ve tied so tight, the unspoken bitter seeds.
This brittle warp, this tangled weft, too fragile now to hold,
A silent scream, no lullaby, a story left untold.

[Outro]
The moon hangs low, a silver shard, my burdens cast and shed,
A truth unspooled, upon your cold, indifferent bed.