Lyrics
The moon, her magic be
Big sad face of infinity
An illuminated clay ball
Manifesting many gentlemanly remarks
She kicks a star
Clouds foregather in Scimitar shape
To round her cradle out
Upside down and old time
You can also let the moon fool you
With imaginary orange-balls
Of blazing imaginary light in fright
As eyeballs
Hurt and foregathered
Wink to the wince of the seeing of a little sprightly otay
Which projects spikes of light
Out the round smooth blue balloon
But full of mountains and moons
Deep as the ocean
High as the moon
Low as the lowliest river lagoon
Fish in the Tar and pull in the Spar
Billy the Bud and Hanshan Emperor
And all wall moongazers since Daniel Machree, Yeats see
Gaze at the moon ocean marking the face
In some cases
The moon is you
In any case
The moon
