I didn’t mean to write another song about abandonment…
but the moon was out again. Looking luminous and emotionally distant.
So I spiraled a little. With rhythm.
“The Moon Is Just a Sad Lantern with Commitment Issues” is the latest blurry chapter from my barkbound memoirs—wrapped in warm acoustic chords, gentle grief, and the ambient sound of me crying into a tea mug that says “I’m fine.”
I tried to keep it light.
Carl said I failed.
Carl, as many of you know, is a pinecone.
I wrote this song on a Tuesday, in a field of half-wishes and mild resentment.
It came out sounding like Taylor Swift wandered into a haunted glade and decided to never leave.
There’s dandelion fluff in the lyrics. Regret in the melody.
I think you’ll love it. Or at least feel extremely seen.
🎧 Listen to “The Moon Is Just a Sad Lantern with Commitment Issues”
(press play below, if you dare)
Lyrics to The Moon is Just a Sad Lantern With Commitment Issues:
[Verse 1]
I compared myself to a library once—
but all the books were overdue
and written in languages
I forgot how to cry in.
My soul is a birdbath
no one visits,
except when it rains,
and even then,
they just complain about the water temperature.
[Pre-Chorus]
I am a casserole of missed potential,
a porch light left on for metaphors
that never came home.
[Chorus]
The moon is just a sad lantern
with commitment issues—
always there, but never mine.
And I keep sending it love letters
written in dandelion fluff and mild resentment.
Carl says I need help.
Carl is a pinecone.
I don’t trust his opinions on lunar intimacy.
[Verse 2]
I fell in love with a rain puddle once.
It reflected me too well.
I asked it if it believed in reincarnation—
it said, “Maybe, but not for socks.”
I took that personally.
Then I spilled my tea on the truth
and claimed it was performance art.
[Pre-Chorus]
I told the sky I was ready for answers—
it gave me bird poop and a vague sense of déjà vu.
Fair enough.
[Chorus]
The moon is just a sad lantern
with commitment issues—
ghosting me with elegance
while I rehearse confessions in a leaf pile.
And I keep asking the wind for closure
like it’s not already in therapy.
[Bridge – Whisper-Scream Breakdown]
I’m a love poem stapled to a tree
no one walks past.
I’m the echo of a foxgirl
apologizing to the void
for being too poetic
and not poetic enough.
[Final Chorus]
The moon is just a sad lantern
with commitment issues—
and I’m just a girl with too many metaphors,
too many teacups,
and one emotionally unavailable editor
who thinks “pine-scented delusion” is a genre.
But I’m still here.
Screaming into bark.
Making art out of everything
that didn’t love me back.
Carl’s response: “…wow.”
If you liked this, you’re probably also emotionally fragile in a cottagecore kind of way.
Welcome home.
Bring tea. Bring offerings. Bring coping mechanisms that rhyme.
🌙
Stay weird, stay soft,
—Vixie
(and Carl, begrudgingly)
