It’s the moon in the sky It is daring to fly And doubting gravity Asking itself a query It wants to be a fairy As it soars in space The moon turns the tide But what are the ideas on the inside? Tell the moon it’s pretty Can the moon hear us talk about it? I think and think, you always doubt it… Why can’t we decide? The Earth is bigger In control with vigor But the moon keeps floating We don’t know its thoughts We assume lots But it doesn’t care The moon may be a bully We should ask the stars to answer fully But maybe they are bullying it Who knows the number of planets it’s faced? What dreams the moon has chased? We don’t know at all. We don’t know the atmosphere Is its end drawing near? We will never know Is there anything we’ll know that the moon doesn’t Do we entertain the moon? Does the moon love it The moon knows so much
The picture is a stroke of boredom.
