Tension of creation

Tension of the bones

Endless finger twitching

Empty music tones

Staring at the ceiling

Kicking at the wall

Falling falling falling

Down away from it all

Don't know where it is

Don't know where I'll be

Let the magic words

Run away from me

If you hear them laughing

Just let them be

Let them speak so softly

That's enough for me

Me and my grandfather pull at the metal stake

Trying to detach the rusty piece from the wall

Because no one's coming back for this

The stones are waiting

Split on all sides, to be hauled from the hillside

But no one's coming back for this

You can imagine that it's brief,

Like a quarryman will come back from break

And yell at us for messing around

But it's been one hundred years

And no one's coming back for this.