Microphones Karl Blau
blue moon
waded out past the waves swells
where we all floated helpless
and he told us to stop treading water
he sang about the sand
where we could all touch our feet down
he held out his hand
with his tipped back he sang loud
but we didn't listen, he swam off alone
long live his words, all caught up on his own
he said "someday the moon will reach out to the sun
but for now it must drift along, but for now he drifts along"
