Lovestruck moon who reigns the sky,
Your king’s wishing he could fly;
You locked him up, deep underground,
His call is rare, for he’s your hound.

He’s allowed to see you late
When your rival come’s to play,
Yet he know’s he has to wait
When with someone else you’re gay.

Your new love’s young, quite a beauty.
The crying stars forfiet his chance;
They know your heart, they know your’re guilty,
And that your stench will end his dance.

When he’ll find out your true face,
It’ll be to late to escape,
For your grasp won’t ever budge,
Even for the the love of your crude life.