Call her moonchild
Dancing in the shallows of a river
Dreaming in the shadow
of the willow.
Talking to the trees of the
Sleeping on the steps of a fountain
Waving silver wands to the
Waiting for the sun on the mountain.
She's a moonchild
Gathering the flowers in a garden.
Drifting on the echoes of the hours.
Sailing on the wind
in a milk white gown
Dropping circle stones on a sun dial
Playing hide and seek
with the ghosts of dawn
Waiting for a smile from a sun child.
-- KING CRIMSON, 1969