From the album Prizefighter
This is about two people who have mastered the art of emotional disappearing acts realizing that maybe they do not have to keep vanishing. The speaker is offering to stay put for someone else, but the whole song aches with the question of whether either of them actually knows how to do that.
On the dark side of the earth, where the creatures are out / I'm a man on the moon
The speaker places himself as far from human connection as physically possible. Being a man on the moon is not adventure, it is exile dressed up as independence.
Hey, I'm a mess myself, but I think / I could be someone if you need someone
The conditional does all the work here. Not I am someone, but I could be. The offer to show up depends entirely on whether the other person asks first.
When I was alone, it was fine, I could deny all I like / I could just push back and make believe and it was alright
This is the past tense that matters. Solitude worked when denial worked. The song exists because that system just broke.
Now there's gold in your eyes in this rosy-fingered light / Like a man on the moon
The moon image returns, but now it describes the other person. They are both astronauts. Both unreachable. Both pretending distance is a choice.
Tell a lie, see a light / Burn a bridge, it'll be alright / Things don't have to fall apart
The song finally admits what it has been circling. All that self-destruction felt necessary. The radical move is believing it is not.
The song never answers whether either person actually shows up. It just keeps asking the same question over and over, like someone practicing how to say yes. The repetition is not certainty. It is hope trying to become muscle memory.