Grown legs

What of the old man's groan,
As it competes against a baby's shrill
I just want my legs to grow
Everything after is time to kill
Nobody speaks because nobody knows
Instead we sing like a pack of gulls
Hovering over the moon's face as it glows
I think we have fallen into a lull
Please stop. Desist. Sing no further.
I will not be an accomplice to your surmise.
For there exists no perfect herder
that we can see with our own eyes
So in night's din,  I do bemoan
How my long legs have failed to grow