Flower Moon
By Cavedwellers
SpoilerA Berkeley pastry chef meets her doom in the hills, under the “flower moon,” and all we got was a lousy podcast.
She left Chez Panisse
At a quarter past nine
She biked to the circle
On the crisp clear May night
She got off the bike
To walk it up the incline
And that’s when he saw her
Just passing his time
Murder is no art
It’s rather banal
But true crime’s a hit
Every minute, somehow
Is your playlist crimey?
Is your conscience grimy?
Flower moon fades away
At the dawning of the day
Flower moon, silver gray
When the mystery fades away
He walked without sound
As the axles, they clicked
She turned right at Euclid
And that’s when she saw him
She suddenly sprinted
Made the right at Regal Road
And left at Marin
Where she could not have slowed
Murder is no art
It’s rather banal
But true crime’s a hit
Every minute, somehow
Is your playlist crimey?
Is your conscience grimy?
Flower moon fades away
At the dawning of the day
Flower moon, silver gray
When the mystery fades away
He tripped on the bike
She tumbled down Marin
He did what he wanted
And then he did her in
Got rid of the evidence
Except the blood on the bike
And that’s why he’s looking
At twenty-five to life
One year ago
In this very spot
A body was found
And the killer was not
But now you can find the fans
From podcast land
Flower moon fades away
At the dawning of the day
Flower moon, silver gray
When the mystery fades away