Here's the text, easier to read... I named it "sun and moon" but really it's "Day & Night". Written in the time of "Covidian Aesthetics" Day & Night Day and night don't sit together sup together break bread together or hold hands across the table as night arrives day despises her visage and hurries to leave and same when day early comes night sees the grand entry (all arrogance) and hustles up her books and things and out the side door out the back door she's jumped out the windows before to avoide the tread of nike on the feet of day and day the same despising night never calls would not write could care less glories and sups in her anguish never trying to be kind or understand her grief glad to see her go stomping just slightly in his step the swoosh of the boot self centered and fine "my rays my rays" thinks the sun to his-self as he accompanies day warming the noble gas of the sky like a match at the bottom of a pipe and night with a harumph knowing she's right but never willing to say knowing day has his place and she can't stay accepting the dark fate that she'd never meet day might never want to and too-da-loo until tomorrow i turn my back and go forever