The owl fluttered on swiftly,
As she saw the grass shiver,
A dive like that of an athlete,
The wind the only one with her

Miles away the bells clanged,
As the peasants woke up for their shifts,
Grabbing their hoes and shovels,
To head across the ditch

In the valley the piper bounds,
As he jumps from rock to rock,
Whistling tunes into the air,
To the ticking of a clock,

And there's a rumble from the hills,
As the gravel tumbles down,
And starts crashing over the mountain,
In the shape of a frown

Hundreds of years later,
A city there now stands,
Thousands of weary people,
Longing for the sand

What once was there has gone,
What is there now was not,
The endless spin and rhyme of time,
Bonfires on rooftops.