I'm Firing Bullets At The Moon Poem by Mark Heathcote

I'm firing bullets at the moon.
And I believe they're passing right through.
And although I'm cold to touch.
I'll still be warm in the fall if I'm with you.
I -guess that's why the moon can be blue.
It's loved something as warm as you.
And -had its light shine clear through.

Darling, I'm firing bullets at the moon.
Looking at you
Seeing more than a cave or two
I know I still love you.
I know I still need you.
I'd love you not to struggle.
But darling, please don't burst this bubble.

I'm firing cannonball fire at a castle.
But I can't make a keyhole, it -seems.
I pray it's not all a dream.
When I see your clothes falling off
The washing line behind a velvet screen
Velvet clouds'..,

I pray it's not all a dream.
When I melt and linger in your shadow
I pray it's not all a dream.
A passing bedrock bolder rolling downstream
Only to crush my belligerent faith
We can always be young and true.
Our love can always be strong.

I'm firing bullets at the moon.
And I do believe they're passing right through.
There are too many impact holes in my soul.
Not to know I'm sinking fast.
Like a dying sailor holding desperate to the mast
I'm exhausted with the task.
But I can smell a faint whiff of tamarisk in your hair.
It's superimposed virtually everywhere.
Ah, darling, to be honest, I'll make love to you anywhere.