the moon man
rows his silver boat
in circles he circles
in his circular skiff
the rounds of the sky
from horizon to horizon
his arc increasing nightly
as the waves above
so the waves below
clouds the wake of his lonely ark
floating and leaving no trace
the moon man
rows his silver boat
in circles he circles
in his circular skiff
the rounds of the sky
from horizon to horizon
his arc increasing nightly
as the waves above
so the waves below
clouds the wake of his lonely ark