And so the moon calls us.
At the stroke of midnight.
Just to hear us say.
I want my soul back.

And so the sun may set.
But that brings to the end.
Until the clock shouts the final hour of our day.
Then the moon calls us.
At the stroke of midnight.
Just to hear us walking down the street.

The moon calls at midnight.
Not for empathy nor for sympathy.
But only to carry our souls until the the sun may rise again.
At the stroke of midnight.