Race me to the hilltop I'd love it more than anything any little thing any little thing any little thing There there'd be buried treasure we'll find some, if you like I'd want nothing more. We'd spin around looking 'round: trees, birds, bees and whatnot; the sun and shadows like clockwork; any little thing we find. When we talk, let's not ruin the hilltop peace. When we talk, let's talk in short words give each other one-letter poems or one-poem letters. Then we'd talk of nothing more and only the grass underneath moves, waves, dances and speaks formless, shadowless, weightless under the black canvass of stars. Then, again we'd run.