Moss

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