The moon and Barber’s Adagio made me cry.
Are lies told for love justified?
The woman you loved, you said she married another.
Some people believe that photographs lie.
Some say I have a passionate side.

When you spoke of the woman you loved, you cried.
Some say they think my heart is ice.
Last night I kissed the photo of my brother.
The woman you loved, did she ever lie?
Perhaps when told by moonlight, lies suffice.

I could say I wanted to taste the tears you cried.
You said the woman you loved will soon die.
I could confess I love another.
Some nights the moon elicits only lies.
In the photographs I took, your eyes are dry.

I could say I wanted to hurt you when you cried.
In the moonlight, choosing Barber was unwise.
What secrets might a photograph uncover?
If we fail to tell the truth, do we lie?
Some say it’s only love if it never dies.

If I told you of my brother, I would cry.
Will you kiss the woman you loved before she dies?
I could say I long to be your lover.
Some say a moonlit kiss redeems all lies.
Some say our truest vows are our goodbyes.