Mother, why is the moon red?
Has the sun finally
gotten revenge?

Daughter, what macabre thinking is this?
The
sun and the moon, why, they coexist.

Then why, Mother, is it,
That
the moon cannot resist,
Why must it always come in the way
Of the
sun’s forever vain parade?

Daughter, my daughter, have I taught
you nothing of space?
The sun and the moon, they both know their
place.

Yes, but Mother you failed to explain why the moon is red
in the face,
Surely you’re not suggesting they have embraced?

The
moon, the sun,
It’s impossible, can’t be done.
Now Daughter, it’s
late. Let’s go inside, come come.