There, along the road, was a tiny home The yard held dead machines behind its fences Like they were it's kids Broken down, but still worth a lot to someone It made me stop and grin Light from a dying moon It blurs our eyes And we wear a cape of fireflies

And here's to the dawn of their days. Sweet Sir Galahad Came in through the window In the night when The moon was in the yard. He took her hand in his And shook the long hair From his neck and he told her She'd been working much too hard.