Keeping time on the kingfisher's climb
And our consciences clean
By knocking the knots in the wood that we got
For our adding machine

Run so the sun never sets
Till we run out of breath

Tracing the moon dimly penned by a tune
That no one will hear
Because brick-braided alleys make steep, sleeping valleys
Seem level and clear

Run so the sun never sets
Till we run out of breath
All we are is moss on a rolling stone

Fluttering falls past the cemetery walls
Where the paupers are weighed
By hanging medallions and anthracite stallions
In vaulted arcades

Run so the sun never sets
Till we run out of breath
All we are is moss on a rolling stone