Moon came to an old Cheshire mere,
This boy cannot stop looking
And looking at pretty Missy Moon.
Thunder growls on this high summer eve
Missy Moon shows off her talents
Her rounded suppleness of form.
She shows all her shades and shadows 
Toing-and-froing the moon swings like a nursery rhyme.
Moonlight flows so that boy is now an old man
sleeping in a hammock made of shades and tears.
In her gypsy skirt Miss Moon bends and rises,
She kisses him, lost and white, in his heart of hearts.
And so-fully herself is she that
Shadows stand in strident awe
At this silent roaring on the other-side-of-silence.
This boy wants to hold her close
to dance her to a full-stop on the glassy surface of the lake
but Missy Moon has forgotten how to dance,
she cries and she whimpers, for her shadows fade,
this side of the mountain,
this side of the grave.

She flirts with the Earth on inauspicious nights
and upon translucent nights when this boy skips
and throws himself  in and out of shadows.
In the lake he sees the swinging-cat 
Chasing the moon to the water-side:

O! He sought her in the water
He sought her in the air
He sought Pretty Missy Moon everywhere:
Chase, grasp, desire, touch:
Dying at the moon’s tide,
Too richly or too much?

This image of the fulsome moon,
on windy nights and when at-swoon,
leaves me with this blood-red-moon
bleeding beside of me and all too soon, you'll see.

(1) Joy Division - She's Lost Control (Live At Something Else Show) [Remastered] [HD] - YouTube

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