The Killing Moon.

You see, he promised her the world, but all he came back with was grass clippings.
Its the little things that remind us how desperately we hold onto that which we desire,
the memories that allow us to keep putting on that face,
that everything is alright,
when really nothing is right,
the world is not succinct and ticking in synchonize,
there is something clearly very wrong,
and nobody is brave enough to say anything.