The lights are shimmering in the valley
As the moon seductively hides it face.

The traffic growls like tired beasts
In an unfamiliar place.

These are the last nights, the hour glass
Has lost its sand,
The flavour of passion has been
Canned.

These are the nights when desire
Is a tired pen leaving streaks
Across the neon dream.

These are the moments that
Seem lonelier than I am.

The evening promise is lost in weary
Imagination.
My thoughts of love are old stars of creation.

Their galaxy dims a little darker but
The lights are shimmering in the valley.