We could have built our houses in the shade of the sun’s eclipse And taught our children to build their lives in the turn of the light Because, silly geese, ultraviolet radiation pours out of its eye And into yours all the same, So it's still the day.
You could have waited more stilly, more patiently, more kindly For the full moon’s pull of your blood’s tide and realized from the Cracks and cliffs cut out of the shores of your defense that my face Is the face you can’t remember When you wake.
But it’s dark outside and still not night, and the moon is full But your blood is fine, so we keep building houses, And I keep talking to Other people’s children.