I dig; soft, soaked soil.Rain makes soft, soaked wood.The shovel,"clank!" on the closed chest below.You dig; through storms and stars.We'd just been born.The shovel,"clank!" on the closed casket below.The worm digs; cracks through the clay.Leaving tracks that trail through time.The shovel,his soft skin, he wishes to go home again.I dig, you dig and the worm digs too.We'd just been born.