Under the Roofs

The fly died in the pale moonlight
Beneath an old paper, preserved
I am contented with my plight:
In eight days, the attic will be leased

The hills are sculpted by shadows
The roofs reverberate the night
A transmission on dark wind blows
Its sound only heard outright

The fly died in the pale moonlight
Beneath an old paper, preserved
I am contented with my plight:
In eight days, the attic will be leased