In the morning when the moon hides,
That's where I'll be.

The same place,
The same face.

Lost in thought, lost in space, floating around you, just in case;
look up you might see

I'll be amongst the atmosphere biding my time,
Waiting in time to shine off your reflection.

I'll be there at the reception of the clouds,
Waiting for the storm to pass.
You'll be proud now when you see who I am crescenly.

Presently I'm a lunatic, the tides not been on my side recently.
I frequently find myself hiding amongst the abyss, prophetically deep in thought,
waiting for the storm to pass and reveal myself like a lunar eclipse.

Those loose lips cause a nuisance.
Sink ships.

But why do you care about those haters with so many holes and so many craters.

That's not like you, that's not the moon I know.

I'll see you later this evening,
like most nights,
or I might of the storm passes in time.