Here on this island
Which we've sought and found
The only problem we have I'm so finding
Is the awareness of night and day
That you've brought a fiddle
And an endless assortment of extra bows and strings
So when the articulate moon comes 'round
To tell us how happy we oughta be in our escapement
You play a suspiciously nostalgic tune
Mm, someone, somewhere sighs
And a cloud crosses the moon's looking
And then before your song is over
We're so puzzled, we cannot interrupt
The orbs moved on and it's time to sleep
It's time to lie us down on these clean experimental sands
Free from the fear of a morning of hunger
And free from the inquisition of a clock that turns
Ah, but not altogether dreamless, no
And wandering old soul
Will the listening moon miss your music when I
When I as leader have demanded its destruction
As surely I must do if this expedition is to be successful
