In the day they're unassuming
a litter of caps for the blooming
but then flip on the night
and on they'll light
with faces to match the pluming.

Their songs are sweet and simple
and will calm the fangs of yearning
but beware: their bite is sharp
with poison to treat the burning.

You’ll attend all the parties
and you'll bask in illusion
but the mask soon will slip
and you’ll be in for a trip:

The crew, they’re all here
but you, I do fear
may be missing
or just part there
blissfully unaware.

So stay away from the caps when day is turning
and take the path, without the caps, 
or there’s a lesson you’ll be learning.