A moon-piece — to fetch up the golden cup
A snow-piece — to avoid the great heat of the sun
Is kept in the night and by the light of the moon
An ice-piece so as they seem forever fallen
A night-piece of the dismal supper and strange entertainment
A rare chance-piece, a handsome piece of deformity
The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man
With stones and illegible inscriptions found about great ruins

“A Batwings (A limnal hymn)” by Coil 

Moonpiece is about the moment when dream and reality merge into one, but it has not yet become neither one nor the other.

This is a borderline state when there was an awareness of oneself as sleeping, but immediately a question arose that causes animal fear — who is sleeping, who is dreaming, and who realized himself sleeping?! It’s about the fear of waking up and the fear that you won’t wake up, and the question of whether I’ll actually wake up and who’s having this dream. Am I really on the border, and how many borders are there? I am attracted to familiar and familiar symbols, but after visiting the border, I can no longer be sure of their true existence and whether they have any meaning for me. And about whether it is possible to go beyond this wheel? Is it worth it?