For the sun we wait,
To hear a joyful tune,
But it departed late,
So say hello to the moon.

All we can do is search
The sky for sonnet’s best,
We should head on to the church
Because there we'll get some rest.

We've been listening for days
But still we hear no sound,
And to god we give our praise
But still no sound is found.

The moon is still sky high,
Above our deafened heads,
In the church we still reside,
Laying in uncomfy beds.

We don't really mind,
And we're not too certain why
Though now we're going blind
And very well might die.

In these beds we still lay,
And to god we still ask
When will come the day
That you may do a simple task?