Under the oak tree, I chant a pray
why have I never seen her this way?
no one’s ought to meet her by day
why is she beneath the cloud grey?

Under the oak tree, I bide
these leaflets, blinding my sight
but I know, it’d be too bright
for I’m blinded by the moonlight

Under the oak tree, I stand
should I attempt to raise a hand?
are you demure for you’ve been manned
should I try and lend you a hand?

Beyond the oak tree, I fly
gazing at you right in the eye
too much a beauty for birds to pass by
I can see the stars, they cry

Last, on the moon, I land
I can hear music but there was no band
have I, somehow, been shammed?
I witness nothing, ‘tis all but sand

Beyond the moon [her], I go
I couldn’t believe, but now I know
that the moon was a total blow
nothing, not even Van Gogh

Under the oak tree, I lie
now may I conclude the reason why
she’s solely a decor to the sky

Under the oak tree, I sleep
before dreams begin to creep
there was a question I need to flip;

how did I fall
so deep?