All these window lights are people Eating, breathing sleeping Like the sunrise, like the moonset Devouring the space given to them Like a river, like a mountain (Sleeping, waking, moving).
All these stars are dying Emptying out their existence to the Emptiness of the unknown Devouring the space in which they seek Like a river, like a mountain (Sleeping, waking, moving).
Who is it that wanders in their mindβs But the ones who ask the harder questions? Who is it that goes down into the black swamp And confronts the age-old cypress? It is the oneβs filled with light and dying Like a river, like a mountain (Sleeping, waking, moving).