Socks cannot navigate

I know that this is true
But they’re quite a unique species
When they’re not stuffed in a shoe

Every night as we sleep
When they’re freed from our feet
They scoot right out the window
Onto the moonlit street

Pairs and pairs of socks
Crawl in their sockish way
And gather in the darkness
To play their sockish play

Oh, the way those socks dance!
They wiggle to the tune
Of crickets and earthworms and stars
Party beneath the moon

When fabric fandangos end
In white herds they will roam
Because socks cannot navigate
And can’t find their way home

When morning comes and wakes us 
We give a puzzled stare
A sock or two is somewhere else
And we have no clue where