Dine-Weller

A bag of nerves
I seem to suppress
Alien of being
Not known to duress

Moonshine, moonshine

There's something in the hills I cannot posses

As dark as sunday
We're woven again
I pack no meaning
I'm shrunken in vain

Moonshine, moonshine

I'm bleak as Tuesday
I seek no applause
Not really like me
Refuse to go on

My faith has been surely fired
I'm schooled in the test of time
Moonshine, moonshine

There's something in the hills I cannot posses

I'm deaf as Thursday
I seek to explode
One hour daily
I work to implode

Moonshine, moonshine