I see the trees turning
I see the topography of the old man's face,
With rifts and cracks
With gold and iron
Still in the old hills

The rolling of the planet wears everything out,
But its rotation scatters the shards of eden
They gleam like the eyes of a sad, old face.

Freeze and thaw,
Freeze and thaw,
Like god squeezing a stress ball.

Glinting ore shines on the skin of my arm
I'm squeezing a stress ball
Trying to find
A way to get the deepest taste of eden
With rifts and cracks
With rifts and cracks
In my jaw and spine