A poem about a drunk man arguing with the moon

Im not what you might call a conspiracy wanker,
But i had an idea as I left The Hope n' Anchor,
I may have been drinking, my thinking be muddy,
As I question the veracity of our celestial buddy,
Oh moon oh moon don't you think it quite mental,
How many of your features I'm s'posed to think coincedental,

Number 1 of your tricks, of your lies from the skies,
Is the fact that you appear the same size,
As the bright one from day time, numero uno, the sun,
Such incedent in our solar system there is only one,
Between sun, moon and planet, this relationships a loner,
Its a gift - we can see, when you pass, the corona.

(Hiccup!)

This fact alone would cause me no strife,
Even though it so happens on the planet with life,
Id think it just quirky, some fun, a bit eccentric,
A reason for us to get Antropocentric,
But there is more of those quirks you crater faced creature,
Here is another loony lunar feature,

28 days with our planet is the length of your dance,
AND the time of your own rotation?this can't just be chance?!?
You've something to hide or you'd turn us your cheek,
Don't you know what you'd inherit if you'd just be so meek?
You treat us with mocking, with scorn, with derision,
You say 'tidal locking'? Its engineered precision!

What's the truth moon? Nazi base? Alien nation?
And what is your link to the tides of menstruation?
I may not be clear moon, I may start to splutter,
Thats partly because I just tripped in the gutter,
I'm a drunkard who gripes with someone so far,
It might not have happened if I'd gone to The Star,
Perhaps I've been gobby, ensconced in libation?
But you wobble too, its name is libration,

Just one last question dear moon, if you've nothing to hide,
Please tell me why its called your dark side?