Blackened sky, natural light so dim and weak, exertion of my flesh is what I seek

Upon a yellow moon-lit run

Artificial light, it rapes away the night, industrial might that obliterates my sight

Upon a yellow moon-lit run

The guiding cycles of the moon, long have they been eschewed, fear the dominating mood of the people peddling doom. Yet mine roots to earth have been renewed, while sweat pours from me half-nude, my humors now in tune

With this yellow moon-lit night

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What cowards made this land of naught but sun, this land through which I now run, the harmony of nature long undone, I fear what this will one day become.

Without darkness to counter-balance light, what stars will guide us right? What is there to wish upon? A place to gaze upwards and belong? It is a joy you see with more than sight. Do you even know what you gave to stave off fright?

Far away in places known, the frozen wastes I once called home, the night knew us as we knew it, a pact of mutual benefit. It was a time for wonder, peace and respite. What is darkness but the invert of light?

When this blinding light devours all, who will be able to see the fall? To rid the world of every shade, would you clear cut every forest glade? In posh wooden coffins we've all been entombed, the great sum of nature slowly doomed. When the planet dies, we will too. Perhaps that is why I feel removed.

Once we are long gone, nature may yet again spawn

And once more, there will be a yellow moon-lit night.