Under a Wine-Stained Moon - Al Stewart

Socrates drank the hemlock

Perhaps he didn’t mind the taste

I guess it was a noble gesture

Of maybe it was just a waste

By the blue Aegean

Like an ancient tune

Dreams of Mycenaean heroes

Under a winestained moon

You’ve got this impulsive nature

Maybe you were born that way

Sometimes it leads you into danger

Sometimes you can make it pay

One a night like this one

Fly a red balloon

On an endless beach of summer

Under a winestained moon

You know that I’ll be waiting for you

Even when I’m frail and old

With hands that shake my wine glass

And skin like hammered gold

Hear the water lapping

Like a drunk bassoon

Beach umbrellas flapping somewhere

Under a winestained moon