Texty: Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová. The Moon.

Cut the bonds with the moon

And let the dogs gather

Burn the gauze in the spoon

And suck the poison up

And bleed



Shut the door to the moon

And let the birds gather

Play no more with the fool

And let the souls wander

And bleed

From the soul



A slow hurt, and it breaks us

And so down, down, down, down and so plain

So down

When you play some more it seems so

And my friends are past this game, of breakdowns

And our friends that are lost at sea, throw down

And I'll break the wasted space

Slow down, slow down

If you don't slow down, slow down

If you don't slow down, slow



Cut the bonds with the moon

And watch the dogs gather