She hangs above, not upside down.
Waiting for her turn, never wearing a frown.
She is a patient woman, wearing a man’s face.
She cannot run, she walks at her own pace.
Who is she? This dark, hidden lady?
She is so bright, when she isn’t shady.
The Moon, oh, the Moon!
Who’s lover comes soon.
Her lover, the sun, sits so high in the sky.
On opposite sides from her sweetheart at night.
But every once in a while, they meet up to kiss,
Covering the world in a gloomy, dark eclipse.
