Flowing. Freezing. Frozen.
Ice on the Delaware.
Another summer has to come.
Once again, we'll fish there.

Speeding. Slowing. Stopped.
We'll decorate the world.
One or two, no, ten times more.
Before the strings of fate unfurl.

Racing. Running. Rest.
We'll reap what we sowed.
Into the fragrant Mother Earth.
The seeds of life will go.
And you will help this silly child.
Because you always know.

Winning. Losing. Lost.
The sorrow does not soothe.
And right now, I'm that kind of sad.
The kind forbidding you to move.
My soul is burning in my bones.
My skin's surface so smooth.

Sleeping. Dreaming. Dreamt.
The stories told and never told.
The arms will wrap around you.
When you're alone or not alone.
The tears you'll cry when you are young.
Etch out the canyons of the old.
Point to the memories of everything.
That nostalgia has foretold.

Living. Dying. Dead.
Cats and Dogs and Birds.
Carved into your backyard.
Driving by the herds.
Green, green Pennsylvania.
Silent, sad Narrowsburg.
Where water is just glass.
Where the train is seldom heard.
It is vague, vaguer, and vaguest.
While it's taking you away.
Where you must've gone to stay.
To create the land of made up words.
And make tomorrow yesterday.
Because the time is always yours.

Frozen. Freezing. Flowing.
Found and never lost.
Sleeping. Smiling. You are here.
Ice is barely frost.
Shooting. Shooting. Shooting stars.
You will decorate the world.
You'll wish for me. I'll wish for you.
The Earth will always twirl.
And I'll be alone or not alone.
One day, I'll simply be too old.
One day, I will ride that train.
The train that will be just as vague.
But I know that I'll stay young, stay bold.
My stories will be told.

And your arms will wrap around me.
Living. Living. Alive.