As day and night would've wearily thought
Through vanilla hours of sour bright
A glimpse, each time, they catch
Of certain kinds of artistry
Only a minute, they get, to behold
Certain kinds of artistry

The gossipy wind whispers tales
Of Day and Night, the mourning pair
As she lulls the mighty world
And he gently rouses it
And Fate to swab away the flush of their cheeks
But Day and Night, they only live
For that glimpse, at break of dawn