Midday Moon (demo version)

by Astronautalis

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This song is dedicated to Robert Nelson and The Cryonics Society of California. They had to try...


A sliver chalk
Across the blue
Lord knows I don’t know what
The hell’s the use of the mid-day moon

You came to my arms
Too god damn soon
Lord knows I don’t know what
To do with you and the mid-day moon

This is just to say
They’ve taken everything away
Every step we made fit into 6 trucks, pick ups, drawing dust above the driveway
The muddy cavalcade came at half past eight collecting everything in that grassy bank
And every trace of you, was taken too, and what was once a womb is just a hollow room.

It was a windy day
That kind that makes me hate L.A.
Cause god gave them a perfect sun and they think gangs and smog were hardly a fair trade
And they don’t breathe or flinch, or even blink at how the green will shift
when the wind parades across the meager ridge and kicks the weeds a bit to make seem as if the lea is a sea of waves.

They say you can’t cheat death
Maybe it’s just a shortness of breath
or no pains in your chest
Just a disease we agree that we ain’t cured yet

Forgive me dear
I never thought that we’d end up here
From “Sweet dreams” whispered in your ear
Before a long night’s sleep so cold and clear.


I’ve been told that when we die
And we pass to the other side
There is no bright light

That death is just a pasture gate
That opens by lifting a plank
To just more life

I met an old man, sun tan, provided by jesus and the light that passed through stain glassed pieces, he clutched a rosary flat to his chest, and confessed he wasn’t ready for death.

I seen an iron eyed firefly femme fatale too vain to explain how her hair fell out, lusting for the next thing to erase her shame, she said “I don’t want to live forever, but I’m scared to fade away”.

This is how they came to me one at a time, pilgrims to my building on the cemetery grounds, all they wanted was an answer and I could never let ‘em down…I couldn’t promise them forever but I could buy a lot of time.

And you Jeanvieve, well you were the straw, whispering your wishes in cotton Québéois.
I wonder the maker ever felt he botched the flock, but never had the mettle to make the world stop?



released March 3, 2011
Words: Astronautalis
Music & Additional Vocals: Picnic Tyme
Flutes by: Aisha Mars
Mixed & Edited by: Astronautalis



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Astronautalis Minneapolis, Minnesota


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