The circle meets under each new moon,
and sees a gleaming lunar noon.
Facing together, they’re singing about
the night they blew the moonlight out.

And in the moonlight did they weep
for silver simmering in its keep;
they dreamt demonic days asleep,
and saved their breath only to shout

until they blew the moonlight out.
And then in the darkness did they creep
like Spider in the water spout,
or like a flock of wounded sheep;

Sirius said the wolves will sleep,
then painted the dirt a deep maroon.
Sower shall sow, and reaper shall reap;
they dined in darkness, free of doubt.

And if the hour is dawning soon
the circle sees the silver spoon,
they’ll forge an empire in the deep,
and then they’ll blow the moonlight out.