Desolation
On the moon, what's there to do?
Cut off from Earth, our planet blue.
Both bathed in glow of sunlight yellow.
But in Artemis, we're all poor fellows.
…
Earth's lands in shades of brown and green,
Its beauty cannot go unseen.
While on the moon, just dunes of dust,
And vagabonds, whom none can trust.
…
A shining beacon in the black?
Or humanity's detritus sack?
The stars beyond, from red to white,
We cannot see their sparks of light.
…
One day, our sun, it will turn red,
But our moon will still be dead.
Us rotting here, this barren moon,
In Artemis, we know our doom.